


Pride and Scorpius

by OlderShouldKnowBetter



Series: Pride & Scorpius-verse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, F/M, Goblins, Harry Potter Next Generation, Quidditch, Slash, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 14:38:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 185,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6708928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlderShouldKnowBetter/pseuds/OlderShouldKnowBetter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that a young witch in possession of prodigious talent, must be in want of a rival.</p><p>See what happens when a Rose full of pride (and not a little prejudice) meets a Scorpius full of neither.</p><p>Like P&P the romance will eventually come, but Rose has to fall in hate with Scorpius long before she finds out how much he really means to her.</p><p>*sigh* because it is a thing now, I have to say that this was started before the Cursed Child came out, and as such is probably non-compliant with it. *even deeper sigh*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Well Met on the Hogwarts Express

# Chapter 1: Well Met on the Hogwarts Express 

Rose stood in the corridor at the window of the train watching her cousin watching his father walking then running alongside the departing train. She turned and caught a last glimpse of her own parents not paying the train any attention, just standing in a group talking with her aunt.

Uncle Harry passed out of her field of view as the train sped up and she heard Albus sigh behind her. The train turned a corner and all vestiges of their old lives disappeared behind them. Before she could say anything reassuring to him she was interrupted.

“Hey, what are you two doing?” they both turned to see James, his head and shoulders sticking out of a compartment door a few doors away. “If you two don’t get moving you’ll never get a seat together. The compartments fill up pretty quick.”

They both started to drag their trunks towards him.

“No, not here; not in this one, we’re full up. You’ll have to find your own one somewhere else.”

Sighing, the two of them kept manhandling their trunks along the passageway outside the compartments. As they passed the one James was in they could see it was chock-a-block full. James was on a seat facing towards them with his nose in the air, regally waving them on; like he was a king or something. Fred was on the floor playing cards, presumably exploding snap (his favourite) with some boy she didn't recognise. She caught a flash of blond hair behind the press of bodies, none of whom she recognised; she wasn't sure but the blond head she saw was probably one of the Scamander Twins or maybe one of Uncle Bill’s kids. Just before she moved beyond his sight, James stopped the waving and gave her a big toothy grin.

They made their way past compartment after compartment but everywhere was full: of noisy kids jumping from seat to seat; quiet ones with kids just talking; even one where every kid had their nose buried in the same copy of Witch Weekly; and everything in between. But none with space for two first years and their over-large trunks.

They tried the next carriage with similar results. Rose saw Dom in one and Lewis in another with his arm around a girl! Even more salaciousness for James she thought, wait till he finds out about this. So that must have been one of the Scamander twins back with James, she thought, it did seem to be all boys in his compartment upon reflection.

They went to the next carriage and it started to yield better results but still not enough room for them both. Halfway down though was a compartment with only one occupant, who was on the far side of the compartment up against the window. Rose wondered why, in a train so full of students, there should be one compartment almost empty – what was wrong with the resident? As soon as Rose looked in at who it was she understood and she passed it straight by. She’d recognised the platinum blond hair though the face was quickly hidden behind a magazine. It wasn't the strawberry blond of Uncle Bill’s kids nor the honey blond of Auntie Luna’s boys. No, the colour of this head of hair was the white of paper with an almost silver tint and it belonged to a person she’d never seen in her life before today when her dad had pointed him out to her on the platform. Albus pulled up behind her, “What about this one?” he asked. Rose shook her head emphatically but silently and Albus didn't push the issue knowing she must have some sort of reason.

They made it to the end of the carriage but the compartments only became fuller. The city had started to thin out and the view through the windows became less urban and more rural with each passing minute.

“This is ridiculous,” Albus said, stopping in the hallway, “Unless you can give me a good reason why not, I'm going back to the one with only one guy in it.” He looked at her interrogatingly.

Rose had no good reason, just her father’s general dislike of the boy’s father. She was too fair to slam or rubbish someone on so flimsy a basis, so she shrugged her shoulders and followed Albus back. No matter that her father had warned her not to ‘go making friends with him’, she decided she would make up her own mind and give him a fair go.

They went back and opening the compartment door, Albus asked, “Do you mind if we come in and sit here?”

The Magazine twitched down slightly and Rose could see two eyes which widened in recognition before the magazine flipped back up again. There was a mumble which could have been, ‘I suppose so.’ 

Albus turned to Rose and raised his eyebrows at the boy’s actions. Rose returned it with a shrug. They entered and heaved their trunks up into the luggage racks. Rose eschewed Albus’ help in doing so with one raised eyebrow. He gave her a funny look and half stuck out his tongue. He was well aware that ‘Rose Didn't Need Help With Anything!’ She had to smile back at him once she was done and they both sat down. Albus sat next to the window and directly across from the boy. Rose was on the same bench seat as Albus but on the opposite end, up against window in the carriage door that looked out into the hallway. The other boy hadn't moved a jot, his face was still covered by what she could now see was Quidditch Today.

The boy was dressed stylishly and neatly from what could be seen that wasn't hidden behind the magazine. He had slacks on, not jeans, or they could even have been suit pants, with a perfectly pressed pleat running down the front of each trouser leg. He had his legs crossed which Rose found strange for a boy to do. He was wearing a jumper of fine, grey worsted wool over a white shirt – she presumed it was white, even though she couldn't see the collar, the cuffs that poked out of the jumper sleeves were white. She thought that he’d been wearing his school robes on the station and that’s when she noticed the robes neatly folded and placed upon the seat beside the boy. In Rose’s extended family there were many people of the ‘male’ persuasion and she didn’t know a single one who folded their worn clothes – at least not without being told to do so by the various mothers of the family.

Albus looked towards the boy and back at Rose quizzically. Rose just shrugged. Albus mouthed something into the silence which could have been, ‘this is stupid.’ He stood up and went to approach the boy, but as he moved the train lurched and so did he; causing him to nearly fall into the still seated boy.

Before he could apologise, the boy flung up his hands, the magazine forgotten and crushed between them. He cowered into the corner. “Don’t hit me.” he said.

Albus was astounded and frowned in agitation, but Rose couldn't help letting out a grunt of amusement. Albus turned on her and silenced her with a glare. Turning back to the boy he said, “Why would I hit you? I wasn't going to hit you. Why would I want to? I don’t even know who you are. I was just going to introduce myself and the train lurched, sorry if I scared you.” 

The boy opened his eyes to see Albus smiling down at him with his right arm outstretched for him to shake.

“I know who he is,” said Rose, who just couldn't help showing off when she knew something that someone else didn't, “His name is Scorpius.” She expected that to provoke a reaction in Albus but his expression remained unchanged.

“Well, Scorpius, I'm Albus and this is my cousin Rose,” Albus said, still holding out his hand. Rose thought she could see the magazine trembling slightly. Perhaps it was just the motion of the train or it could be her imagination because surely the boy couldn't have been scared of them, could he? What was he thinking, was he coming to school with prejudices against them, from his father as she was from hers? This sort of introspection didn't suit Rose’s personality so she stopped it as she observed what was still happening between the boys.

Scorpius could detect no duplicity in Albus so he tentatively reached up, dropping the magazine, and grasped the proffered hand.

“… and his last name is Malfoy,” Rose finished saying, with a hint of maliciousness in her voice. ‘There,’ Rose thought , ‘Albus must react to that.’

Albus felt Scorpius’ hand tighten on his own and saw his eyes shut and what little colour there was in his face drain out. Albus just kept shaking his hand, “Well pleased to meet you Scorpius Malfoy. Is that a Muggle name because I've never heard it before?”

Rose’s smirk vanished off her face but it wasn't seen by either of the boys, so intent were they upon each other. Scorpius’ eyes had shot open and his mouth was an O of surprise. Before he could stop himself, Scorpius blurted out, “Y-You've never heard of Ma-Malfoy?” he stammered.

“Nope, Should I have?” Albus answered.

Scorpius just couldn't stop himself, “Your dad, Harry Potter, has never told you about the Malfoys or Draco Malfoy?” Scorpius looked over at Rose and could see the same disbelief upon her face as well, Rose obviously knew about him or of him and there should be no way that Albus hadn't.

Rose couldn't believe it either. She knew that Albus hadn't been paying attention on the platform when her dad had pointed out the Malfoys to Uncle Harry. Rose had turned to share with Albus this revelation of a person who her father had always mentioned though she had never seen before, but she had found Albus staring up the platform to see where James had gotten to. 

So she knew that Albus hadn't seen Scorpius on the platform. But to not know the name of Malfoy at all …? Surely that was impossible considering what Draco Malfoy had been to their two fathers. 

It wasn't a topic of constant conversation in her house, but her dad had bad-mouthed Draco Malfoy often enough. Especially when they did anything or got anything fancy. Money wasn't tight while she was growing up, but it wasn't plentiful either so when they got something nice her dad would say ‘Good enough for Malfoy Manor, this is.” Or if something was bad or went wrong, it would be, “I bet the Malfoys don’t have to settle for this.” As a small child, in the way kids make funny assumptions, Rose had thought the Malfoys ate off gold plates and lived in a castle made from diamonds. She’d said as much over a family dinner one day and her father had laughed till gravy came out his nose, but her mum had scolded him for ages afterwards. Even so he still mentioned the gold plates to Rose every now and then. ‘We could be eating off gold plates couldn't we Rosie?’ he’d say and give her a wink.

“Wait a sec, did you day Draco? Is that your dad? ” Said Albus and Scorpius nodded, the fear starting to return to his eyes. “Oh yeah I know of a Draco, he’s an old school mate of my dad’s. So that’d be him then, the same Draco?”

It was then that Rose realised that apart from her dad, she’d never heard the name of Malfoy anywhere else. She’d never read it in the papers, or heard it on the Wizarding Wireless or even on the few wizarding TV stations. Now that she was thinking about it she remembered the only other time she’d seen the name Malfoy had been in a book about the history of the Second Wizarding War. Albus wasn't a big reader and he certainly wouldn't read something as dry as a History book; so he wouldn't have read the name Malfoy there. And not just that, once she’d overheard a conversation between her father and her Uncle where his name had come up. During the whole conversation her dad had been ‘Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy’ whereas her Uncle had only said Draco. So his dad may not have ever said the name 'Malfoy' in his son’s presence. Rose was astounded but she was beginning to think that maybe Albus Potter had never heard the name Malfoy before in his life.

Scorpius looked up at Albus in disbelief, at the earnestness in his face … and started to cry.

Rose scoffed when she saw, Scorpius didn't hear or notice, but it was loud enough for Albus who shot her a look. He sat next to Scorpius, patting him on the shoulder, saying, “Hey mate, it’s OK. I'm sorry I haven’t heard of your dad.”

Scorpius laughed at Albus’ perhaps deliberate mistake and the tears (such that they were) dried up. “No it’s not that, of course, it’s just that … my father hated yours whilst they were at school and set about to make his life a misery. I just thought …” he shrugged his shoulders not knowing what more to say. 

“Well you see, that’s the thing about my dad, he doesn't really hold grudges … except for someone called Umbridge, he doesn't like her very much.”

Rose laughed in agreement and Albus looked over at her. A grin appeared on his face and both he and Rose said at the same time, “Poisonous old cow!” They both rolled about laughing, obviously their dads said the exact same thing about the woman.

Scorpius looked on bemusedly. He couldn't ever recall having heard the name of Umbridge before, but he knew she hadn't been a Death Eater. So there was someone Harry Potter disliked more than Death Eaters? It was almost unbelievable, what could she have possibly done?

“Is that what your dad calls her too?” Rose managed to stop laughing and say.

Albus nodded as he calmed himself down, “You know, she was the one who gave him those scars on the back of his hand?”

Rose had a look of amused discovery upon her face, “Not the ‘I must not tell lies’ ones?” she asked.

“Yep the very same.” He turned to Scorpius who obviously wasn't following what they were saying, “Carved onto the back of Dads right hand are scars which spell out, ‘I must not tell lies’. And what he does…” Albus laughed 

Rose interrupted, “Does he still do it then?” she was also grinning.

“Yep.” Albus nodded back, but addressing Scorpius explained, “What he does is, when he catches you out not telling the truth or doing something wrong, he sits you down and holds up his hand, and his face goes all serious ...”

Rose interrupted again, “And he doesn't say anything.” She burst into giggles.

“Yeah, just holding up the back of his hand, usually in a fist and just … just staring you out. And you always crack.”

“And, and,” Rose added, “He does this thing where he leans his face in so all you can see is his scar. So it’s like, look at all the stuff he went through and there you are lying about eating all the biscuits or something petty or stupid.”

“Yeah.” Albus shook his head slowly and said almost to himself, “and you always crack …”

He was staring off into the middle distance, but he pulled himself together and turned to Scorpius, “OK, how about this – do you think, from stuff people know about our two dads, that nobody would ever think we’d be friends?” At Scorpius’ nod he continued, “Well let’s just prove them all wrong and be the best of friends!” He stuck out his hand.

Scorpius looked at it and back up into the trustworthy face of Albus Potter. A grin appeared on his face, “I would esteem that highly,” and they both shook on it. 

Rose was looking on with disdain, what sort of kid their age uses a word like ‘esteem’? His whole manner: his diction; his vocabulary; the way he was dressed; his whole bearing; spoke of an upper-class upbringing that Rose had no experience of and really no truck with. Rose was trying to be fair as to her regard for the boy, but he was making it really difficult for her.

Considering the friendship that was to develop between these two, a shaft of light should have illuminated the handshake while heavenly choirs sang. Instead the only witness was a slightly put out girl who rolled her eyes as they grasped each other’s hands and grinned.

“Now, I couldn't help but noticing,” Albus said as he released Scorpius’ hand and picked up the magazine which had fallen to the floor,” but do you like “Quidditch?”

Scorpius nodded enthusiastically, “Oh yes indeed, I try to practice every chance I get – I just wish first year students were allowed to join the house teams.”

“Same here,” Albus agreed enthusiastically. “Most of my cousins play, so family get-togethers always become big Quidditch matches. Between us all we can basically field two teams. How about you?”

Scorpius’ face fell slightly, “No we don’t have a very big family.”

“So no brothers or sisters then?”

Scorpius shook his head, “I do have a cousin though, on my mum’s side, but she goes to Beaubaxtons. She plays, but it is hard to have a proper game, or even practice together, when there is only two of you and you both play such different positions.”

“Oh yeah, what position do you play?” Albus asked.

“Seeker,” said Scorpius, only to have his new friend burst into laughter. Scorpius noticed, though, that Rose was scowling at him from her corner, “What is so funny?”

“What do you think the chances are of three potentially great house seekers to meet up in the train on their very first day? That’s what me and Rose play too, don’t we Rosie?” He turned to see Rose scowling at them. With a laugh he said, “What’s that for?”

She ignored Albus and focused her attention upon Scorpius, “What house do you want to be sorted into?” Scorpius flushed and stopped smiling. With almost a nasty sneer Rose continued, “I bet you want to be a slimy Slytherin just like your dad?”

“NO!” Scorpius said with vehemence that shocked the other two and Albus began to get an inkling of some of the enmity between Scorpius’ dad and his own. Albus was taken aback by Scorpius’ tone as was Rose – it wiped the smirk right off her face.

“I don’t,” he continued, “anything but there. I’d even prefer to be in Hufflepuff than there.”

“So where do you want to go then?” asked a slightly more subdued Rose.

“I don’t know, probably Ravenclaw because I don’t really want to be in Hufflepuff either.”

“What about Gryffindor?” Albus asked.

Scorpius laughed a mirthless chuckle, “They’d never accept a Malfoy, even if the hat did sort me there.”

“My dad,” Albus began, “Said that the hat takes your preferences into account when you get sorted. James has been teasing me all summer about how I’ll be sorted into Slytherin, but my dad said the Sorting Hat takes your wishes into account – it did for him. So just ask to be in Gryffindor with us, you’ll have at least two friends there in us, won’t he Rose.”

Albus was concentrating on Scorpius so he didn't see the look on Rose’s face, but Scorpius did. Scorpius wasn't so sure he’d have two friends in Gryffindor.

Scorpius flicked his gaze back to Albus and slowly a grin appeared on his face’ “Alright, I will give it a try.”

“Well that’s just going to be fine isn't it?” said Rose, “I suppose two of us will just have to live with the disappointment then, wont we?” 

At Rose’s words Albus turned around and with a frown said, “What do you mean by that and why are you being so nasty?”

“We can’t all be seekers for Gryffindor can we?”

Albus’ face fell, “I hadn't thought of that, Oh well, we’ll just have to fight for it won’t we Rosie?”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. She didn't mind Albus calling her by her childhood pet name, but she didn't want anyone else to. Especially not Malfoy.

“Or maybe,” turning back to Scorpius, Albus said, “we’ll still be best mates yeah? But I go into Gryffindor, you go into Ravenclaw and perhaps Rosie becomes a slimy Slytherin?” and he turned a mischievous smile back in her direction.

“I told you,” Rose shouted angrily and leaned forward in her seat.

But what she was going to tell them never got said because they were interrupted by the compartment door opening.

A goblin girl popped her head through the opening and Rose could see a much smaller girl goblin beside her, half hidden behind the doorway.

“Do you mind if we come in and sit with you?” the older goblin said.

* * *

**Authors Note: So here is the start to my first Rose/Scorpius fan fiction. This was originally posted on the HPFF site, but I am porting it here.**

**The plot will very loosely follow the plot of Pride and Prejudice. So anyone who is familiar with that great work of fiction will remember that at first Lizzy is neutral towards Darcy but soon begins to dislike him. That dislike turns to distaste and even downright loathing by the middle of the book. It is only three quarters of the way through the book that she even begins to like him.**

**My story will follow a similar path especially since they are all eleven when they meet and I don’t think any romance/relationship should start until much later. So there is plenty of time for her to develop her dislike for Scorpius, but don’t worry eventually she will work out how much he means to her and fall in love, eventually.**

**Until then there is a lot of world building to be done because I have a few wrinkles on the setting that I don’t think have been done before. Most notably …**

**If any of you are wondering what goblins are doing on the train you should read my other story – Harry Potter and the Final Year. It is set just post-Hogwarts and starts the world that this story is so clearly a continuation of. There are spoilers in the next chapter of P &S which may spoil the second and third chapters of HP&TFY, so I would recommend that everyone read all my stuff. (See what I did there?) Or at least the second and third chapters of the other story.**


	2. Dawnsfirstbloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  In which the other member of our main quartet is introduced.
> 
> Introductions are made; a notable comparison is highlighted between the different ways to learn another language; and sweets are purchased.
> 
> _Rose looked into the trusting, hopeful face of the little goblin and couldn't help but smile too, “So just found out you were a witch, did you?”_

  
 

  
**Chapter 2:   Dawnsfirstbloom**  
 

The two goblins paused at the doorway. They were both girls and one looked significantly older than the other.  Rose would have guessed the smaller, younger one was a first year like herself; the expression on her face gave it away. The older one … Rose couldn’t tell, at least sixth year or maybe even seventh?

Having grown up around the potters Rose was used to seeing goblins so these two held no surprises for her.  The elder girl was very goblin like; she hit all the stereotypes of how they were ‘supposed’ to look – pointy chin, long nose, those huge pointy ears, and (surprisingly for a female goblin) a large forehead with slightly receding hair. She had tried to hide it by having a fringe and it was short cut in the back.

The other goblin wasn’t so ‘gobliny’. She had the pointy nose and big pointed ears that were endemic to her kind – you almost couldn’t be a goblin without them Rose supposed. Her chin, while it could be considered pointy by normal human standards, didn’t come to the sharp point of her friends. Her hair was blonde and was held back from her face in a low pony tail which came halfway down her back, but she’d left two locks of hair free which fell down either side of her face in front of her ears. She looked a bit nervous but there was something else there too, some inner core of strength. She only looked nervous because she was out of her depth Rose suddenly realised, normally she would be strutting the stage with confidence.

Rose knew that most goblins were totally un-aware of their ability to use magic before they received their acceptance letter. She supposed all of them might look expectantly for a letter on their eleventh birthdays, but for most it wouldn’t come - out of the whole goblin population of Great Britain, there was usually only one, if that, who had sufficient magical ability to learn magic. Depending upon when this girl’s birthday was she might have only found out she was going to go to Hogwarts a few weeks, even a few days ago.

Rose wasn’t normally a good judge of character, even though she thought she was better than she was, but there was something about this girl she just seemed to ‘get’, to understand. Rose gave her a big smile and it was returned, somewhat shyly from where the goblin stood in doorway.

The older goblin spoke, she had one arm holding the door open and one around the obviously nervous little one, “Is it OK, can we sit here with you three, and everywhere else is pretty much full?”

Rose, Albus and Scorpius had all frozen when the two suddenly appeared. Albus was the first to respond and he smiled at the two in the doorway and said, “Certainly. I mean yes. Come in, come in and _**welcome**_.”

Rose snapped her attention back to Albus, she’d forgotten that he and all the Potter kids could speak gobbledegook. Rose turned her attention back to the goblins; they were now looking as surprised as the humans had been when they first entered the carriage. _**“You speak goblin?”**_ the elder one managed to say.

  
_**“Yes,”**_ said Albus, _**“though long time has it being since I spoke it much.”**_

Rose couldn’t understand a word but she saw the younger goblin crack a slight smile at Albus’ words.

The older one turned to the younger one, _**“See! It won’t be so bad, here is one who will treat you with respect, one at least with some proper doings.”**_

  
_**“Not every wizard is an uncivilised boor.”**_ It was the turn of everyone, goblin and human alike to stare in surprise at who had just spoken. Scorpius flushed slightly under the combined scrutiny, but he continued, _**“Some of us at least have been brought up with proper manners.”**_

The goblins turned their heads towards Rose with almost excitement in their eyes. Rose had to shake her head under their questioning gaze. She knew what they were silently asking.

She went bright red.  
 

Scarlet.

There were a lot of things she loved about herself. A lot of it was clear legacy from her wonderful parents, but this was one thing she hated – the Weasley blush. Both goblins had the grace not to look disappointed, but Rose could tell they were. She was saved by Albus speaking up.

“Oh where are my manners, speaking of manners,” he said as he came to his feet and continued on in Gobbledygook, _**“Where are my manners? Forgive this one for not himself introducing properly, taught better have I been. Greetings and welcome I say to you my goblin brothers,”**_ he faltered a bit at whatever word he’d just said, Rose could tell, but he rallied and carried on, “sisters, um … _**sisters, for I may call you such. I am Albus, Smith and Smith’s son, son of Smith Harry Potter, of tribe Strongarm, and the Deep Delvers Clan. I am a Friend to Goblins and as such welcome you to …”**_ he stumbled over his words, which up until this point sounded like something Albus had rehearsed, _**“to, um, this small train room, um,”**_ then he rallied, _**“for as long as you require it. I shall be your guide amongst the dark tunnels and the dark passages.”**_

The goblins were looking at Albus as he said his whole spiel, their eyes getting wider and wider as he spoke. Rose could distinguish Albus’ name and his father’s in all the gobbledegook. At just about the time he said his name the younger of the two goblins jumped in surprise.

When Albus had finished he bowed deeply to the two goblins. Rose was surprised at the formality and even more so when the two goblins curtsied back in response.

The older one spoke, _**“We thank you for your kind attentions, Smith and son of Potter, Albus; but it is too much. We cannot lie we are both of considerably less status, especially myself. It is we who should be of assistance to you.”**_

  
_**“Nonsense,”**_ replied Albus, _**“everyone at Hogwarts equal is. I will accept my status in goblin society, but in Hogwarts here please let us be as status same.”**_

  
_**“You are most generous,”**_ said the elder goblin and they both curtsied again.

Albus smiled, _**“Would you myself allow introductions to my companions?”**_

  
_**“Thank you, we would be honoured to meet two friends of Smith son of Potter, Albus, but forgive us, we have not named ourselves – let us do so now. I am Shineofiron of the unaligned northern Rock Splitters tribe. This youngling claims some kinship with you, she is Dawnsfirstbloom of the Deeper Delvers tribe and your own clan the Deep Delvers.”**_ Both goblins curtsied and Albus bowed back again.

Albus indicated Rose, _**“This one is being my cousin Rose daughter of Ron Weasley, but she would be better known to goblins because her mother is Hermione Granger the freer of elves. Her status is goblin friend.”**_

Both goblins turned to Rose and she was caught off by their regard and their curtseys. All she could manage was the nod of the head that passed for a bow. “Hi, I’m Rose.” she said.

The two goblins smiled back at her. “Shineofiron,” said the elder and, “Dawnsfirstbloom,” said the younger.

  
_**“And this is my gobbledegook speaking friend. His name is being Scorpius,”**_ said Albus.

The two goblins curtsied to Scorpius who had started to stand as he heard Albus begin his introduction. He bowed low to the two goblins saying, _**“It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance. I fear my status in goblin society, is not nearly so elevated as your own. I hope at least to call you both friends if I may?”**_

He bowed again and the goblins both curtsied again and they’d just straightened up when everyone jumped because Albus had brought both his hands together in a loud clap. “Right! I think all the pleasantries are over. For the sake of my poor cousin, if we could all speak English for a while, I think it would be much better.”

Both goblins smiled and nodded and took their seats. Shineofiron took the seat opposite Rose and said, “Sorry, I didn’t expect many people to know gobbledegook. I know they teach it at Hogwarts from third year on, but not that many take the classes. It’s a surprise to find two first years who speak it so well. Well not so much of a surprise now I know who your father is Albus.”

Dawnsfirstbloom dumped herself down next to Rose and gave her a big grin full of teeth, but it was still in a way tentative. “Hi.” She said, but with her accent it came out ‘i and Rose could tell she was in a way very nervous about what was probably her first meeting with a human student.

It had been hidden from Rose because of Dawnsfirstbloom’s orientation in the doorway, but now rose could see her right side. There from her large right ear was hanging a dragon's tooth from a gold setting. Given the relative size between a goblin and a dragon, the tooth looked huge compared to the little goblin. Because of the size of her ears, the tooth wasn’t hanging right down by her cheek it hung out a ways, but it nearly touched her shoulder it was that large. Rose laughed – it suddenly reminded her of her Uncle Bill.

A little wave of disappointment and hurt passed across the features of the goblin, but she did her best to hide it.

Rose cried, “No, no, no; I wasn’t laughing at you.” trying to forestall the goblin’s hurt; Rose had her faults, but she was no bigot. “You just reminded me for a moment of my Uncle Bill. He used to have an earring like that in the old photos of him and he used to wear his hair up in a ponytail too.”

“Oh,” she said as much in relief as anything and quickly added, “I just met 'im.” 

“That’s right because of the Bank, you would have seen him there.” 

“Oh no, I don’t ‘ave much to do with the bank; I’m not one of those toffs. Been down the tunnels all my life I ‘ave. No, I only met ‘im the other week when I got my letter. ‘e comes down to me with a bunch of other wizards, couple of them goblins an’ all, and welcomes me into the wide old world of wizardry. Nice, ‘e was and they all ‘elps me get my stuff and get sorted. ‘e didn’t ‘ave no ponytail though, just ‘is ‘air ‘anging down all messy like and with those scars all over his face; ‘e looked really bad-ass, but ‘e was nice to me.” 

Dawnsfirstbloom stopped talking as if she thought she’d said too much and a slightly nervous silence fell between them. Rose could detect in the small face in front of her no slyness, no duplicity just eagerness and she thought perhaps a bit of apprehension at being accepted. Rose never really had to make a lot of friends; her large extended family had been more than enough – especially if you counted the Scamanders and the Longbottoms as well (and she usually did). She had a couple of friends from the schooling she’d done here, though she had a few better ones from her time in Australia. They were closer emotionally but that didn’t help so much because they were not terribly close geographically.

Rose looked into the trusting, hopeful face of the little goblin and couldn’t help but smile too, “So just found out you were a witch, did you?” It was as she had thought and the little goblin girl just nodded back a bit shyly and hesitantly. “OK then, if you get stuck or need to know anything, don’t hesitate to ask me, you’ll always have a friend in me.”

The smile that lit up Dawnsfirstbloom’s face was genuine and heartfelt, and with the goblins features it really did light up the whole of her face.

As with Albus and Scorpius, so should it have been with Rose and Dawnsfirstbloom. A shaft of light should have illuminated the scene, heavenly choirs should have sung of the beginning of such an epic and lifelong friendship. They would stick together forever. Through the dark times ahead they would trust each other with their lives. They would share the good times and make each others lives better for having the other one in it. And in the end, one would die in the others arms.

The mutual regard was broken by Albus saying, “There’s one thing I want to know, when we were talking, both me and Scorpius, you kept smirking Dawnsfirstbloom. Why was that?”

Dawnsfirstbloom smiled at Albus and ducked her head in mock shame, “Sorry, but it’s just that you both speak goblin so well and so badly and both opposite to each other. Albus, the way you talk, goblin that is, is perfect like you was a goblin, but the way you put the words together is just wrong. Your sentences are awful.” 

“Dawnsfirstbloom,” scolded Shineofiron, one did not talk that way to a Smith.

“Well it’s true in’it?” she said back, shrugging her shoulders.

Albus chuckled, “Yeah I suppose I do, I don’t really have to speak gobbledegook all that much so I suppose I must have gotten a bit rusty. But I did learn it when I was small. When I was small there were always goblins in and out of home, but I suppose I learnt it mainly from Auntie Lightsthefire.”

Rose had met Lightsthefire a few times, growing up so close to the Potters it was inevitable. She was always nice to the kids and had plenty of time for them all when she was there. It was only later that Rose knew who she was, what she’d done. She was the first ever Goblin to be taught magic and allowed to use a wand. Uncle Harry had done it. He’d used his influence after the war to let goblins who could potentially do magic come to Hogwarts to learn and she was the first. She’d done great things afterwards too. She and her uncle Truearm were responsible for the Cup of Peace and Friendship in Diagon Alley.  She’d been all round the world helping goblins to get wands in other countries. There was one county in particular, one of the countries of Eastern Europe, where there were now no goblins. It didn’t have the largest of populations to begin with, but the human government had been particularly intolerant. So Lightsthefire had organised it and within a week there were no goblins left in the country at all. The country was still suffering from the lack of goblin trade and goblin banking and it sent a clear message to the rest of the world. 

Rose liked her and always had a great time with her when she came to stay at her Uncle’s. So Rose knew her as the kindly goblin that always had such interesting stories about fabulous countries all over the world. Rose would hang on her every word because one day she wished to visit them all herself.

But the way the two goblins reacted, Albus may as well have said he knew the Queen, or Merlin or someone like that. Dawnsfirstbloom nearly fell out of her seat.

Shineofiron looked astonished herself, “I forgot you’d probably know her, you’re a member of her tribe after all.” She paused, reminiscing, “I met her once, just after first year, she’d just come back into the country from somewhere in Africa I think. She congratulated me on my wand and Hogwarts and everything. She was very nice and kind to me.” 

“Yeah she is,” agreed Albus, “she’s great. Always such good stories about her trips.” He grinned to himself, but then he obviously remembered something, “but wait a sec, that’s just me. What about Scorpius, why were you also smirking at him?”

Dawnsfirstbloom pulled herself back together, remembering what they’d been talking about. She grinned, “Well ‘im, ‘e’s the exact opposite of you isn’t ‘e. ‘e speaks real proper, perfect like, but ‘e sounds like ‘e learnt it out’er a book or somefing.” Scorpius blushed slightly, Dawnsfirstbloom pounced on him, “Ha you did didn’t ya?”

He had to grin and nod, “That is basically correct, although I did have a certain amount of help from our house-elf.”

Rose was about to sneer at Malfoy for keeping a house-elf. She just bet he did; dirty, downtrodden, probably sleeps in the basement, probably one that was still a slave. Scorpius was prevented from being the subject of Rose’s angry tirade, as was any further conversation by a rattle and a bump from the hallway followed abruptly by the door opening and Hannah Longbottom sticking her head through the door.

“Anything from the trolley dears?” she asked and then she recognised who it was. “Oh, it’s you lot, hi Rose, Albus; first year at Hogwarts then?”

Albus and Rose both chorused, “Hi Auntie Hannah.”

Hannah Longbottom, Hannah Abbot as she was, ran the Leaky Cauldron; the pub just outside Diagon Alley. She married Neville Longbottom, an old school friend of their parents, who now worked at Hogwarts as the Herbology Professor. A long distant relationship was not so much of a problem in the wizarding world; not when with a few apparitions you could travel from Scotland to London, let alone the instantaneous travel possible between any two fireplaces with Floo Powder (as long as they were on the network). Nevertheless, they both took all the opportunities they could to catch up with each other. Neville would always go back to the school a few weeks before the start of term to get some of the plants ready. Hannah would stay home and come up with the students on the Hogwarts Express. She’d taken over the sweets trolley from the old witch who had retired years ago. It was an easy job and didn't cut into her proper job too much; seeing as she only had to do it four times a year - up and back at Christmas and again at year's end. At first it was only an excuse to ride the train up to see her husband – she hadn’t known beforehand how profitable it was. As she remarked once to her husband, “You wouldn’t believe how much those kids spend on sweets.”

Dawnsfirstbloom had leapt out of her seat, “Wizard lollies?” she said. At the nod from Hannah she turned to the other kids, “What do you want? My treat.”

There was a chorus of ‘no’s and ‘we’ve got money’, but Dawnsfirstbloom ignored them all and said, “Nope, I insist.”

They were all going to argue more until Shineofiron said, “It means a lot to us, to her. Let her do it.” Because of her tone they all acquiesced and Dawnsfirstbloom leapt out after Hannah.

Shineofiron smiled out after her, “Thank you. You see it is probably the first time she has ever bought anything for anyone else in her entire life.”

Before they could ask her what she meant Dawnsfirstbloom jumped back into the compartment, “Um,” she said, “I don’t know what to get.”

“I’ll help,” Albus and Rose said together, but Albus got to his feet first and waved Rose down, “I’ll go, you just got to visit Auntie Hannah, and I haven’t seen her for ages.” He said referring to her stay over with them during the holidays.

Rose sat back in her seat as Albus passed her. She looked over at Shineofiron and asked, “What did you mean, about her buying stuff?”

“In the tribe you don’t need anything, all your needs are met; like food and clothing and education and the rest. So you don’t really _need_ anything, but you don’t get much of what you want though, if you know what I mean. We don’t have that much money, personal money. Oh some do, like those in some of the higher up banking tribes, but most of us don’t.”

“When we come to Hogwarts we are part of this … this group. We get scholarships; all of us goblins and a handful of humans each year do as well. It gives us spending money amongst other things. It’s so that we can have a good time at school like the rest of you.”

Scorpius shifted around in his seat while she was talking, especially when Shineofiron talked about the group she was in. Rose couldn’t really figure out why; she found Malfoy awfully hard to read, but he did look rather shifty.

“So this is probably the first time Dawnsfirstbloom has even had money and been able to spend it as she wanted and on whom she wanted. No one is as rich,” Shineofiron intoned, like it was something she was reciting, “as those that can buy things for others.”

Scorpius really did look shifty and uncomfortable now. _‘Ah ha,’_ thought Rose, _‘I’ve got his number; I bet the little rich kid has never spent a single knut on another person in his life. And not because he hasn’t got any money, like these goblins.’_

Albus poked his head back in, “I know what Rose wants, what do you want Scorpius?”

“Some sugar quills and a few chocolate frogs if I may.” He replied.

Albus turned his head to look at Rose with a wide grin on his face. She begged him with her eyes and a little shake of her head not to say what she knew he was going to say, but it did no good. With the grin lighting up his features he said, “Just like Rose then,” and disappeared back out into the corridor.

Rose looked anywhere except at Scorpius. She didn’t know why it mattered, but it did, that she liked the same sweets. She felt herself beginning to blush and she hated herself for it. She was spared further mortification when Albus and Dawnsfirstbloom returned laden with sweets. Dawnsfirstbloom dumped her armful on the seat between her and Rose and started dolling them out.

She handed a bag of liquorice wands to Shineofiron saying, “I got you these because I remember you saying you liked them, didn’t you?”

“Yes, thanks,” Shineofiron replied and took one out of its packet and shoved it into her mouth.

Albus had his lot in his hands, but passed over what was obviously for Scorpius. Scorpius said a polite, ‘thank you’ to Dawnsfirstbloom before he started unpeeling a chocolate frog. His eyes widened as he saw the card and he quickly put it away into his top pocket and didn’t look up.

Rose would have hardly registered his reaction anyway as she was preoccupied with Dawnsfirstbloom. The little goblin had seemingly bought some of everything, including what appeared to be a giant bag of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans and a lot of chocolate frogs. She was particularly taken with the chocolate frogs hopping everywhere, especially when she found they had cards inside.

“Yeah, I’m still missing a couple; I bought all my trades to swap. Hang on a sec.” Rose said and stood on the seat to rummage around in her trunk. She came back to her seat with a pile of cards in her hand, “You can have them all to start you on your way,” and handed them to Dawnsfirstbloom who looked beside herself.

“Are you sure, I couldn’t,” she said.

Rose waved her protests aside, “No it’s fine; I love them too. I love knowing what all those old wizards and witches did, it makes me feel like I’m part of a great tradition; and now I am and so are you too.”

The boys were talking Quidditch and Shineofiron was still sucking on her liquorice wand but had now pulled out a magazine and was reading it. They were all distracted and Rose took the opportunity to lean in to Dawnsfirstbloom and say, in a voice which didn’t carry, “I’ve got a favour to ask.”

Dawnsfirstbloom took in Rose’s furtiveness and responded in kind, “Yeah, what do you want?” she whispered back.

“Will you teach me to speak gobbledegook?”

A smile spread across Dawnsfirstbloom’s face, “I’d be happy to.”

Rose grinned back at her but before anything else could be said, everyone’s attention was drawn to the door as it was thrust open. They could see there was a large crowd outside the compartment, but it was an older boy with dark hair and a serious expression who had been the one to open the door.

He leaned in to the compartment, looked straight at Scorpius taking in his appearance and especially his platinum blonde hair and said, almost demanded, “Are you Malfoy?”

 

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 **Authors note: Second chapter and we have now the four main players for my little drama. I hope the delineation of the gobbledegook was clear.**

  
 **Reviews are always welcome, especially criticism**

 **As you can see, I will be posting a chapter every few weeks till I'm up to date with how many I've posted on HPFF.**  
 


	3. Goblin Friends and Friends of Goblins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which something is revealed about Scorpius to Roses displeasure.
> 
> What money can buy; two goblins are surprised about different things; and the nature of Kiwi fruit.
> 
> _“Yeah,” said Dawnsfirstbloom, “I think he could become Goblin Friend and probably in no time flat.”_

  
**Note: If I was writing about Roslyn and her cousin Albert and Serpens and Dawnsfirstbloom  then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**  

  
**  
****… hey wait a sec, Dawnsfirstbloom is all mine, all mine BWHA HA HA!**  
  

 **... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.**

The main banner and all chapter images have been painted by myself.

* * *

 

 **Chapter 3:     Goblin Friends and Friends of Goblins**

Malfoy looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. He quailed under the older boy’s scrutiny - his whole body language spoke of the trapped and the timid: his eyes darting to the boy; to the doorway behind him; to the crowd outside; and finally to Albus. Rose had to give him credit then because he straightened his shoulders and looking up at the much older boy he replied.

“Yes. Yes I am, Scorpius Malfoy at your service. Can I be of any assistance?”

The older boy laughed at his response, “Talks just like his old-man too, he does.” He turned back to the crowd outside shaking his head and smiling as he addressed someone just behind him, “It is him, couldn’t be anyone else.” 

Rose didn’t like where this seemed to be heading. She’d originally smirked at Scorpius’s discomfort, he’d almost crapped his pants before when he thought Albus was going to hit him; so she wondered now how he would react with actual physical confrontation. 

Something had put a bit of spine in him, though, judging by his reactions, but what could have so fundamentally changed in Scorpius in only a half hour or so? The only difference was … _‘nah,’_ Rose thought, _‘it couldn’t be that? The only real difference … could it just be that Albus was now his friend? I know Albus is awesome but … seriously?’_  

The older kid had pulled himself back inside the compartment. “There’s not enough space in here to do this properly,” he said, “So we’ll wait for you in the Great Hall tomorrow.” 

  
 _‘Uh oh,’_ thought Rose, she really, really didn’t like where this was headed. She didn’t like Malfoy much from her first impressions but this was way too much. The older boy and his friends obviously knew Malfoy’s dad and were judging him in some way because of it. Were they victims of Death Eaters? Or family of victims at least – they were too young to be direct victims she was sure. She wasn’t going to stand for any bullying so, as much as she didn’t want to, she was going to have to stand up to them with him or maybe on his behalf (if Scorpius was as gutless as she suspected). 

She noticed Dawnsfirstbloom sitting up rigidly next to her, good she’d have some back up at least from the feisty little goblin.

She prepared herself, allowing the older boy time to make the first move or the first threatening gesture.

“So I’ll make it quick, we all wanted you to know …”

  
 _‘Here it comes,’_ thought Rose

“… how grateful we are.” said the older boy.

  
 _‘What!?’_ thought Rose, stripping a few mental gears as her original thoughts came to a sudden, crashing halt.

“All of us,” the boy continued, waving a hand to encompass those in the hallway, “are Malfoy Scholarship kids; all of us,” flicking a glance at the doorway, “though, you can only see a handful now - it’s hard to fit thirty plus kids outside one train compartment.”

Rose was all at sea, she had no idea what they were talking about, but probably the biggest surprise was Dawnsfirstbloom’s reaction. She was sitting upright her eyes fixed (adoringly? respectfully?) upon Scorpius and nodding enthusiastically beside her.

The older boy introduced himself but Rose missed his name, concentrating as she was upon the little goblin beside her. She did hear him though when he went on to say, “I was nominated as the chair of the Scholarship this year. And I asked around and everybody agreed with me, that we can’t have a Malfoy Scholarship without the only Malfoy at Hogwarts not being in it … um, did that make sense? You know what I mean, we want you to join us ‘cause all of us who get it, what we also do is organise study groups and functions and lots of other stuff all throughout the year – and we want you to be part of it. OK?”

Scorpius had stood up during the boy’s speech, so that at the end of it he bowed to the boy and said, “I would be honoured.” 

“Great!” the boy said slapping Malfoy on the shoulder and taking his hand and shaking it. “We’ll get out of your hair then and leave you to your other friends - oh hi Shineofiron, didn’t see you there – and we’ll see you later.”

He turned and left the compartment with a wave. The other kids started to file past too, waving as they went.

Shineofiron immediately spoke up, she looked surprised and almost accusingly said, “You didn’t tell us you were a Malfoy.”

“Yeah,” said Dawnsfirstbloom in the same manner, “Why didn’t you say?”

“Cause, you know,” continued Shineofiron, “all of us goblins have Malfoy Scholarships. It’s almost automatic for us to get it, even …”

She was interrupted by a voice at the door, “even me?”

Shineofiron looked up in surprise which soon turned to annoyance when she saw who it was. She looked a bit abashed though as she took in his smirk and realised the truth to his insinuation.

“Yes even I, a rich goblin, have a Malfoy Scholarship.”

Stood in the doorway, the hallway having cleared behind him, was a goblin. He had been unnoticed until now because they were all concentrating on Scorpius.

Rose didn’t know much about clothes and stuff, she was almost totally oblivious to the whole fashion thing; at home she wore jeans when it was cold and shorts when it was hot and had an array of t-shirts with all sorts of (mainly wizarding) designs. When it was colder she wore a Quidditch jersey over the t-shirt or when it was really cold, a parker. But even she knew that this goblin was smartly dressed. He wore a suit – the full thing, waistcoat tie and all – of an immaculate cut. He even had a fob watch in the fob pocket of the waistcoat and funnily enough it didn’t look pretentious on him, it just looked part of his everyday. Rose realised the three goblins around her presented such a range of fashion. The new goblin was obviously rich and richly attired. Shineofiron was reasonably smartly dressed with slacks and a handsome blouse with a chunky necklace shown off to good effect at her neck. Dawnsfirstbloom had on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with the Royal Flying Corps roundel on it (the blue circle with the white one inside it and the small red one in the centre). No wonder Rose liked Dawnsfirstbloom, she was obviously a girl after her own heart.

“I want to say something though,’ he said as he closed the compartment door behind him, “which may help to silence probably my greatest detractor,” he looked at Shineofiron, who had the grace to look even more shamefaced, “Though I would prefer what I’m about to reveal not be too widely known, for reasons that will become obvious” 

Addressing Scorpius he said, _**“But first, allow me the honour to introduce myself, I am Nimblehand of the Roof-Sure banking Clan. I understand you speak my tongue?”**_

  
 _ **“Thank you for your honours and attentions,”**_ replied Scorpius, _**“**_ _ **my low status in your society is such that I deserve no such, it is my privilege to be known to you.”**_

  
 _ **“No! It is this I wish to redress; for I would like to nominate Scorpius Malfoy for consideration to become a Goblin Friend. What say you my witnesses?”**_

“Yeah,” said Dawnsfirstbloom, “I think he could become Goblin Friend and probably in no time flat.”

  
 _ **“Hold your tongue youngling, you speak of goblin matters in front of outsiders?”**_ he said.

“I won’t shut up,” she wasn’t going to take any shit from an uppity, Banking Clan, suit wearing, snooty, boy, “because it doesn’t matter; he speaks Gobbledygook,” she pointed with her left thumb at Albus, “and she’s already a Goblin Friend anyways, but she don’t speak it” pointing now at Rose.

The goblin’s eyes widened, especially at the mention of Rose’s status. “I apologise, please forgive me, to whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

Rose, as nonplussed as she was, managed to rise to the occasion. Standing she put out her hand, “Rose Weasley.”

“Ah, I know of your father, or is it uncle, who works at Gringotts.”

“Yes, that’s my uncle Bill.”

“She is Goblin Friend because of her dam,” Shineofiron spoke up informatively, “she is the daughter of Hermione Granger.”

A smile came to his face, “Ah I see, the Freer of Elves. My pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He said, shaking her hand. She shook his, being used to the respect that goblins placed upon her mother.

“But I was distracted. I wanted to say my piece, speaking as to his nomination for this honour. Like Miss Weasley, I want it bestowed on Scorpius because of the actions of his Parent. But as I can see here, I think the honour has not been bestowed unwisely upon Miss Weasley, because I see that she has already become firm friends with at least one goblin.”

Dawnsfirstbloom recanted some of her initial dislike of the boy and gave him a nod of respect.

”Scorpius’ father, Draco Malfoy came to me upon my acceptance into Hogwarts. Every goblin who has attended Hogwarts has had a scholarship since the scholarship’s inception. I would have been the first who didn’t need it, the first goblin with sufficient funds of my own. He asked me what he should do; he spoke to me like I mattered, like my opinion counted for something.” He was looking at Shineofiron when he said the last and Rose could tell from her expression that it was obviously a big thing for these goblins to be treated that way by a wizard.

“He, Draco Malfoy, knew the value of inclusion and the penalty of exclusion. He said he didn’t want me to be the only goblin not to be in the fund, but it wasn’t fair for me to receive the grant monies. He asked me, me an under-aged, no real account goblin, what I thought he should do.” 

Shihineofiron was looking even more impressed.

“He even allowed me time to reflect upon it. And after considering the problem for a while and what I should do, I graciously accepted the Scholarship position, but I said it would look suspicious if I didn’t receive the money as well. So I get that too.” 

There was a hiss of displeasure from Shineofiron, which changed to open-mouthed astonishment when he added. “But I give it all away to goblin kids that don’t have anything.”

“That’s you,” interjected Dawnsfirstbloom with a look of astonishment on her face, “You do the goblin care packages?” If he was responsible for those then she really had to re-evaluate her opinion of him.

At a nod from Nimblehand, Dawnsfirstbloom said, “Wow, they’re fantastic. A friend of mine got one last year and it was great – we all got a day off and we went up into Diagon Alley and then into Muggle London. ‘cause my friend see, always wanted to look at London from above, seeing as all 'e got to do every day was to see London from below; so we all got dressed up like muggle children - with 'ats on to 'ide our ears - and went on the Millennium eye – twice! Except for ‘andhold – ‘e was scared of how big the sky was and chickened out. And that was all ‘cause of you? Thanks!” 

Nimblehand sketched a small bow towards Dawnsfirstbloom then he explained to Rose, catching her look of bewilderment, “I give the money to a young goblin each month. Well, half of it; the other half goes to their family to buy things that they need. But it is contingent upon the other half going to the kids themselves to spend as they wish. Just like the scholarship is intended for us. From the evidence I have gathered, they mostly have a good time with their friends because ‘No one is as rich as those who can buy things for other people’ And this is why, of course,” he said looking now at Shineofiron, “I do not want it to be common knowledge that I am in any way connected to these gifts. It is far better that they remain truly anonymous”

At the familiar quote, Rose looked over at Scorpius. It was obviously an expression the Malfoy Scholarship people used; maybe it was even their motto she reckoned. Her initial surmise was way off then, when she had seen his reaction to when Shineofiron said it. He wasn’t uncomfortable about him not ever having spent money on someone else, as she had first thought. That was obviously wrong, but the unsettling thing was that the only other explanation was that he was uncomfortable about being connected with the scholarship. Why? Why wouldn’t he have jumped at the chance of being thought well of or big-noting himself even? Certainly that’s what she would have expected from the son of the Draco Malfoy that her dad had always described.

Nimblehand also turned and regarded Scorpius. “That is why I want to nominate Scorpius Malfoy for consideration to become a Goblin Friend. Who will witness this?”

To the goblin's surprise, it was Albus who got to his feet and answered first. “I will. I Albus Potter, Smith and Smithson and Friend to Goblins, son of Smith Harry Potter of the tribe Strong Arm and clan Deep Delvers do witness and second this proposal.”

Nimblehand’s disbelief at Albus’ interjection disappeared at Albus’ words; to be replaced by shock and then awe.

“I beg your pardon,” said Nimblehand bowing extremely low, “I did not know who you were or your status. I apologise for my lack of manners.”

“Nah, that’s OK,” said Albus brushing it off, “We’re all the same at Hogwarts. Anyway, Scorp seems decent enough, I’m sure he’ll earn his status soon enough.”

Rose saw a peculiar expression cross the face of Malfoy, but she didn’t know what it signified. She wasn’t to know that this was the first time Scorpius had ever been given a nickname by a friend; the first time he’d even had a real best friend either. Rose could have no idea just how much it meant to him. The surge of happiness and gratitude propelled Scorpius to his feet and he bowed deeply to the goblin.

“You do me a great honour,” he said, “One I do not deserve; it is merely reflected glory from my father.”

“No, I maintain the vein of gold lies not far from the seam,” Nimblehand contradicted (using what sounded, to Rose, like a goblin expression), “You still have to earn your status yourself - nomination is merely the start of the process – but I feel it is a good way for me to repay the generosity of spirit your father showed to me.”

There was little more to say. He made his farewells, but as he turned to leave, Shineofiron leapt up and enveloped him in a hug. Rose wasn’t sure, but she suspected she may have been the only one to hear Shineofiron’s whispered apology.

Shineofiron also took her opportunity to leave shortly afterwards; she wanted to go and sit back with her friends, now that she was assured of Dawnsfirstbloom’s comfort.

Once the two pairs of kids were alone they relaxed into easy conversation: Albus with Scorpius and Rose with Dawnsfirstbloom. The two girls sat there with the lollies between them making inroads into the pile of Bertie’s Botts beans. Dawnsfirstbloom had asked Rose about herself and her family. As Rose talked, Dawnsfirstbloom would break a bean in half and toss one half to Rose and the other half into her own mouth.

“… so, I’ve got a younger brother … yum porridge with brown sugar … His name’s Hugo and he’s going to be here next year … yuck, blood - no way, you like the taste of blood, but you didn’t like the taste of bananas …”

“… down the mines most my life, ‘ardly never seen the sky, ‘specially in daytime … ere what’s the flavour of this one? What the bloody ‘ell is a Kiwi fruit? … No I’ve never ‘ad one and good thing too. Sounds Unhygienic it does. I fink I remember what a kiwi is – small brown bird yeah? So what are it’s fruit then: does it shit them out or is they like eggs? What are you laughing so much about? …”

It continued in this same vein for most of the rest of the journey until an older girl popped her head in the door. She was wearing the black school robes and had a shiny badge with a big P pinned to her chest. “Half an hour or so from Hogwarts, better get dressed into your school robes.” 

The two girls shooed the boys out while Dawnsfirstbloom changed (Rose already had her robes on) and once finished the boys did the same to them. It wasn’t until they were standing in the corridor - and Rose actually looked out a window, - that she realised how dark it had gotten outside. The boys opened up the compartment door and joined them in the corridor just as the lights of Hogsmeade hove into view appearing like a bunch of bright stars in the gap between the hills ahead. Rose turned from the window to see Albus in the doorway. He had a big grin on his face and she knew it matched hers, “We’re finally here Al.” she breathed and all the events of the journey fell away from her. It was just her and her best friend/cousin in that moment, two kids who had been dreaming of this moment together for what seemed like years.

“I know Rosie,” he said holding one of her hands and giving it a squeeze. He dropped her hand and put an arm around her shoulder, “You and me kid, we’re gonna go far.”

Rose laughed out loud and together they jumped off the train.

* * *

 **Author's note:  
**

 **Finally off the train and next up the sorting - let us see the ramifications of Harry's words that he had with his son on the train platform. I wonder which house Albus will be sorted into ... you might be surprised.**

 **The wonderful beta I have for my other story has graciously accepted beta-ing duties on this story as well - so another big thanks goes out to Loonylovegood67890. It is to her you owe a few of the descriptions in this chapter (I tend to forget to add descriptions as everything is so clearly defined in my mind).**

 **Thankyou to everyone who has read and especially those who have reviewed.**


	4. The Sorting Hat’s Greatest Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our principles are sorted into the Houses that will be their homes for the next seven years.
> 
>    
> Rose experiences a new emotion; an unexpected acquaintance is revealed; sorting goes somewhat unexpectedly; and the Headmistress has some news.  
>    
>  _So it was with a giant smile upon her face and no nerves at all that Rose led the first years up the centre of the Great Hall and out into the space before the raised teacher’s desk._  
>   

**Note: If I was writing about Roslyn and her cousin Albert and Serpens and Dawnsfirstbloom meeting the half giant Hagen then being sorted into school houses by the Placement Hat - it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec, Dawnsfirstbloom is mine, all mine BWHA HA HA!**

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.**

 

   
The main banner and all chapter images have been painted by myself.

**This chapter is now dedicated to Beeezie, aka Abhorsen for sticking up for my characters even when I had failed them.**

* * *

 

** Chapter 4     The Sorting Hat’s Greatest Regret **

 

The station was awash with black robed students as Rose and Albus alighted from the train. The station itself was brightly lit but it was very dark elsewhere – all that could be seen were a few twinkling lights that must have been from Hogsmeade.

A shape loomed above the students at the end of the platform. It could only be one thing, one person rather.

‘Hagrid! It must be Hagrid,’ thought Rose, one of her godparents. Her dad had been a bit greedy on her behalf when she was born, not only did she have a set of godparents in Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny, she also had Hagrid too. Thinking of the Potters she looked at Albus, remembering that he too could claim Hagrid as a god-parent. Albus hadn’t noticed him yet but he soon would because over the din and the gaggle of voices she could just start to hear, “First years, over here.”

She started in surprise, Dawnsfirstbloom!? Had anyone told her, warned her there was a half-giant at Hogwarts? What did goblins think of Giants, anyway? Did they hate them, fear them, what? Were they ancient enemies, even?

With these thoughts running through her head she disengaged herself from Albus and sped back to the carriage door. She was about to pull herself inside but had to bring herself to a stop halfway up, with both hands on the handrails either side of the doorway. Someone was blocking her path; coming out as she wanted to get back in. She checked her progress and she looked up, up into the face of Scorpius Malfoy.

She hadn't been this close to him yet – they were almost face-to-face, except he was a step higher than her, being still on the train. His pale skin shone in the reflected lamplight of the station as Rose craned her neck to look at him. His light, platinum blonde hair fairly glowed. But what arrested Rose completely were his eyes. They were steel grey – Rose had never seen their like before. So close was she that she could see her reflection in them. How small and lost she looked, drowning in the black depths of his pupils surrounded by the grey pools of his irises.

Something shot through her; some sort of emotion that she’d never experienced before. She had no clue as to what it was, no idea and no comparison to anything remotely similar. So she responded to it in the way she did to anything new she didn't understand – with gruff bravado.

“Get out of my way Malfoy.”

An emotion flickered across his face, but again Rose could not tell what it was. She just had no take on Malfoy's emotions, no understanding of what was going on behind his cool façade. 

“It would be my greatest pleasure, Miss Weasley,” he said with a mocking undertone, “except you are baring my exit and I am, thusly, unable to alight from the carriage.”

Rose snorted in contempt at his words, ‘who used alight?’ she thought, ‘I know it’s the proper word and all but still…’

Sarcastically she said, “Oh pardon me,” letting go with one hand to allow him to ‘alight’. Making an overly florid wave she bowed him off the train, “after you, mon-sewer Malfoy.”

  
_“Certainment, ma cherie rouquin,”_ he replied in French.

There were giggles from some girls passing by on the platform as Rose looked daggers at him as he swaggered away. She couldn’t help but feel that she’d come off second best.

Rose dragged her eyes back to Dawnsfirstbloom, who was now standing in the open doorway. Rose had been distracted by Malfoy and so didn’t realise how close Hagrid had gotten. Dawnsfirstbloom, being still on the train, could see over Rose’s head and her eyes widened as she caught sight of Hagrid.

Rose was too late to warn her, but she was going to try to attempt to calm her new friend down when, too her surprise, Dawnsfirstbloom yelled out “HAGRID!”

“FIRST YEARS, OVER HE-*,” Hagrid shouted, then in a whisper, by comparison, “Sprout, is that you?” 

Dawnsfirstbloom leaped out, past Rose, and ran over to Hagrid who’d leant down with his arms outstretched. “SPROUT! IT IS YER!”

Dawnsfirstbloom dodged Hagrid’s arms and with a dexterity that surprised Rose, ran up one of Hagrid’s legs, up around his back and perched up on his shoulder; laughing all the way.

Hagrid stood up with a laugh, clapping his hands over her legs to prevent her falling off, “I knew it,” he said, “I just knew there were summat special about yer. Made a wizard and now here at Hogwarts, aint that grand.”

“Yep,” she agreed, “first one in my tribe too; put us Deeper Delvers on the map I did.”

“Ha, I bet yer did an’ all. Oh there’s Rosie too. How’s my favourite god-daughter then?” he asked, not stopping for an answer he added, “and is Albus somewhere round-abouts too?”

“Over here Hagrid,” she heard her cousin yell from somewhere behind Hagrid’s bulk.

“OK then,” raising his voice once more, “FIRST YEARS, THIS WAY – FOLLOW ME,” and he led them off the station and away from the older students and down to the boats tethered at the edge of a black lake.

Rose didn’t have her new, best friend with her and Albus was nowhere to be seen, so Rose had to hop into a boat by herself. Two girls jumped in after her, but took one look at the sour expression upon her face and didn’t engage her in any conversation. Which was no great shame Rose thought because, from the few snippets she caught of it, it was about some wizard music star and what he’d been caught doing. Rose gladly kept to herself as the boats pulled themselves away from their moorings and began to glide across the lake.

Hagrid’s boat was within sight and only contained himself and Dawnsfirstbloom (still perched upon his shoulder). She saw Dawnsfirstbloom was happy, chatting away to Hagrid. Dawnsfirstbloom paused in her talk and looked around for something. It must have been for Rose herself, because once she saw her she stopped looking around and gave Rose a big grin and a huge wave.

Rose waved back, the scowl she didn’t realise she had, slipping from her face. Why was she so grumpy she asked herself? She wasn’t angry at Hagrid or Dawnsfirstbloom for knowing each other. Or Albus for wherever he’d gotten to. She wasn’t even that mad at Scorpius. So what was her problem?

She decided to cheer up.

She turned to the two other girls in her boat. At her sudden regard they both looked at her askance, but as soon as they saw the grin on her face they smiled back.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” said Rose.

They both nodded back and chorused, “Very,” but broke into giggles from saying the same thing at the same time.

All further conversation was silenced as they rounded an outcrop and Hogwarts hove into view.

This was it.

It was all suddenly very real for Rose. This is what she’d been dreaming of for years. Her concentration was fixed upon the castle as they came closer and closer; gliding across the glassy surface of the lake till they came under an overhang and her view of the castle was blocked. They bumped against a pier and came to a stop.

Rose immediately hopped out, her sea-legs were rather good, and went looking for her friend or her cousin. The gathered students all looked the same in their black robes and she couldn't find them - it didn't help that Dawnsfirstbloom was so much shorter than all the rest.

They were all crowding up a staircase and Rose was jostled more than once. The staircase widened out and the press of bodies abated, which meant that Rose couldn't ignore it when it happened again – someone behind her poked her really hard. She thought she must have imagined it before or it had been an accident when they were all so close together. But she couldn't ignore it for a second time, especially not now that the crowd was thinning out and coming to a stop in front of two enormous doors.

She turned around to issue a, 'Watch what you’re doing,’ and what she saw made her rethink her initial assumptions that she had been poked; maybe she had been pinched. Because standing right behind her was a boy. He wasn't looking her way at the moment, instead he was concentrating on a girl, with her back to them, to Rose’s left (now that Rose had turned around). He was lining up to pinch her, and it looked like the target was the girl’s bum.

‘Oh no you don’t,’ she thought and reached over with her right hand and grabbed his wrist. The look of surprise and alarm upon his face at being caught out was almost comical. With a quick turn and a twist, she had the boy on the ground, immobilised with his arm bent up at a peculiar angle.

\--o-O-o--

Uncle Harry had his kids, and any of the cousins who wanted to, trained in muggle martial arts. 

‘Harry has been an Auror too long,’ she overheard her dad saying to her mum once. He always made the kids wear Uncle George’s shield hats when they went out and bought them new ones every year. He made them practice what they would do if they were kidnapped or threatened or in any number of horrific scenarios. And the training in how to defend themselves without a wand was just another one of his safeguard measures.

Her mum had protested once when uncle Harry had been talking about something she thought was particularly gruesome. He stopped what he was doing and looked her mother right in the eye. With absolutely no expression on his face and a completely deadpan voice he said, “Constant Vigilance.”

Her mum’s eyes had gone wide and she clutched her chest and, blinking away tears, backed off and said no more.

So they all knew some smattering of self-defence because, as Uncle Harry had said, “Wizards, especially the true blood creeps and the dark magic types, often underestimate the muggle martial arts.” Out of them all though, it was Albus and herself who loved it and went much further with it than any of the other kids.  They were each about a fourth grade in a mixed discipline of Karate, Aikido and Ju-Jitsu.

 

\--o-O-o--

The first anyone really knew of her hold on the boy was his yelp of pain as she twisted his arm. Then his cries of, “Get off!” and, “Let me go!” served to clear a space around them.

“That’ll teach you to keep your pervy hands to yourself,” she snarled down at him and was about to kick him in the side – as she’d been taught to do, but more particularly as she wanted to do – when an adult voice said, “What’s going on here?”

It was obvious: the boy cowering in pain at her feet; his arm held in an obviously painful wrist-lock; and Rose’s right foot raised off the ground and poised just before kicking him. But she dropped his arm and beamed up at the newly arrived adult, “Hi, Uncle Neville!” She exclaimed brightly.

“Yes, well … harrumph, quite, but it’s Uncle Professor, I mean Professor Longbottom while at school, OK Rosie?” He turned to the assembled students and raised his voice, “You kids line up, we’ll be entering the Great Hall soon; and I think we’ll have you up here in the front Rose away from … um, just away from.” He marshalled them up and Dawnsfirstbloom slipped in behind Rose. She smiled up at her and said, “That was awesome, that creeper got what was comin’ to him. Just wish you’d got your kick in though.” And her smile turned downright malevolent.

So it was with a giant smile upon her face and no nerves at all that Rose led the first years up the centre of the Great Hall and out into the space before the raised teacher’s desk.

Neville brought out the stool and placed upon it a battered, old, leather Wizards hat.

A crease on the side of the hat became wider and split open just like a mouth and the hat began to sing.

 

Now listen to my song,

Right here where you all belong, 

At Hogwarts school of wizardry,

Where everyone can plainly see,

We all should get along.  
 

There are four houses, true,

And here’s what I shall do,

I must sort you all, that’s every one,

Into each house until I’m done,

To join our happy crew.

 

There’s Gryffindor, that’s for the bold,

He founded the school in the days of old,

He wanted students brave and loyal,

And not afraid of healthy toil.

 

And Slytherin, that’s for the sly,

Great friend of Godric in days gone by,

He wanted those both cunning and pure,

Or to prove themselves, that’s for sure.

 

And Ravenclaw, that’s for the wise,

To learn and teach were her greatest prize,

She wanted all those with smarts and brains,

Who know to come in when it rains.

 

And Hufflepuff is for the true,

The greatest friend of her in blue,

She prized the kind and all the rest,

Everyone to her was blest.

 

Now you’ve listened to my song,

Right here where you all belong,

At Hogwarts school of wizardry,

Where everyone can plainly see,

We all should get along.

 

So now you all will come to me,

Put me on and then we’ll see,

Hufflepuff or Gryffindor?

Maybe Slytherin or Ravenclaw?

In which one will you be?

  
 

There was applause from the assembled houses and Professor Longbottom stepped forward and held up a scroll. He cleared his throat and said, “Dawnsfirstbloom.”

She looked up at Rose, and with a confident grin went over to the stool. It didn’t take long, once the hat was on her head, for the rip at the brim to open up and shout, “Gryffindor.”

There was a huge cheer from the Gryffindor table and Dawnsfirstbloom turned back to Rose with a triumphant smile as she put the hat back down on the stool and ran over to her new house table.

She kept waving to Rose and Rose was smiling back at her – so much so that she didn’t pay attention to any of the students being sorted until she heard, “Malfoy Scorpius.”

She looked over as the blonde boy tentatively made his way to the hat; a few whispers went around the hall. Nothing happened for a while when the hat was placed upon his head. After a while, Rose could see the hat shaking slightly as if Malfoy was shaking his head no. But at last the hat shouted out, “Slytherin,” and there was applause from that table, but Rose could see his shoulders slump in defeat and as he placed the hat on the stool and made his way to the Slytherin table he looked truly forlorn and alone.

Rose was broken out of her reverie and contemplation of Malfoy, when in a name or two she heard, “Potter, Albus.” Louder whispers went around the hall this time, not the least because he did look remarkably like his famous father. He placed the hat upon his head and … nothing.

The minutes stretched by, people began to whisper, and then to talk and then to quietly laugh. Albus was waving his hands about like he was arguing with the hat but still the silence stretched on.

   
 

  
\--o-O-o--

  


 

Inside the hat it was a different story.

Albus had put the hat on, only to be greeted with that strange dislocation where he suddenly felt he was in a giant cavern yet still within the boundaries of the hat.

“Ah,” said a deep voice, “another Mr Potter. Only a Miss left to come for this generation apparently. So what do we have here then?”

Albus spoke up, “My dad said you take the wishes of … my wishes into account when you sort us, yes?”

“That is true; sometimes my choice is not clear. So I must use the student’s wishes in my decision.”

“Good,” Albus said in reply, “then I want to go into Slytherin.”

“Truly? I can see in your mind the dreams of Gryffindor, to be where your father belonged and his father before him and so many other Potters over the course of the years. Mostly all in Gryffindor – do you want to give that up?”

“Yep. I want to be with my mate. I know how scared he is and how alone. I know he didn’t want to go into Slytherin, yet that’s where you put him anyway. So that’s where I want to go, with him.”

“Indeed! Give up all your own hopes and dreams, just for a friend you hardly even know. Such love and compassion you have for a friend of only a few hours that you would turn your back on all your family. That’s very … brave of you.”

“No, no, no,” said Albus quickly, “I can see what you’re doing. It’s me being cunning, no, um … wanting to prove myself, yes that’s it. Prove I can be anything I want to be and still do it in Slytherin.”

“Smart too,” rejoindered the hat, “such a mix, such an equal mix, of bravery and intelligence and kindness and, yes Albus, a desire to prove yourself. In all my years of sorting there have only been a handful of students who combined each attribute in such a perfect balance. There was only one in the last hundred years and it is my greatest regret that I placed him into the house he wanted and not where I wanted him to be. Yes one student, and funnily enough you are named after him.”

“What?” said Albus, “Dumbledore?”

The hat laughed, “What makes you think that? Albus Dumbledore was so brave, smart yes, but so very brave. It was as you kids say a ‘no brainer’ to put him in Gryffindor.”

  
_‘Maybe my dad might have said no brainer’_ thought Albus mockingly.

“I heard that,” replied the hat huffily. 

“No, I speak instead of Severus Snape, your other namesake. Such a mix of love and bravery and intelligence and cunning, but he so desperately wanted to be in Slytherin and against my better judgement into that house I placed him. What would have happened if I’d done as I’d wished, I’ll never know. So I’ll correct my previous error and put you in GRYFFINDOR.”

Albus realised the hat had spoken to the room at large and he could hear cheering and clapping, though it was muffled through the hat. He sighed, poor Scorp would have to do without him for a housemate. He reached up to remove the hat when it interrupted him by saying (but not out loud), “Hold on to your hat for a second Mr Potter.”

Albus lowered his arms and remained seated. He could hear the cheering start to die down and begin to be replaced with the titters of laughter when the hat once again yelled out, but this time, “SLYTHERIN.”

There was a smattering of applause from that table, mainly from the older students who hadn’t been paying attention and just clapped when they heard their house’s name.

That applause died out and a low murmur of conversation was just starting as the hat yelled out, “RAVENCLAW.”

The murmuring became louder and the hat didn’t pause long before it added, “HUFFLEPUFF.”

“Ha!” it said, but once again it was only to Albus, “That’s put the cat amongst the owls.”

“But, how, why?” Albus asked, “What’ll I do?”

“Mr Potter usually it is very clear which house I should sort a student into. They usually have a clear characteristic for a particular house; though quite often a student will have a strong secondary trait for another house. Rarely are the traits in equal proportions for the two houses – in those cases I take their preferences into account, like I did for your father. But all four in equal measure? I have been waiting years for another such as yourself to come along.”

“As to your second question as to what you should do, be an envoy amongst the houses. Promote house unity; use your kindness and smarts, use your cunning and be brave and bring them all together at last.”

   
 

\--o-O-o--

 

The hall had fallen silent as Albus had sat listening to the hat. He reached up as he stood and removed the hat from his head. The whole hall was looking at him in silence. He turned and carefully placed the hat back on the stool and decided to chance his luck. He dusted some imaginary lint off the hat and turned back to the hall. Speaking up in a clear voice he said, “Now which house should I choose today, eny, mene, mini, mo… “

A great peal of laughter rang around the hall as Albus pointed at each house in turn. He made a couple of passes before stopping at Slytherin. He nodded his head and strode over and plonked himself down next to Scorpius who was grinning from ear to ear.

The laughter and the cheering from the Slytherins – ‘we got him first, we got him first’ – died down as Professor Longbottom cleared his throat and continued reading out the students names.

There was one student in the hall who wasn’t happy; who didn’t join in the laughter with all the rest. Rose was fuming. She just knew it was somehow all Malfoy’s fault. Albus should have been in Gryffindor with her and the rest of the family (most of them anyway). _“I bet he said something to the hat,’_ she thought, _‘and now he’s gone to sit with the slimy Slytherins and slimy little Scorpius too.’_ Now his first night would be with them and not in Gryffindor with her as she’d planned.

Well there was no way she was going to be a slimy Slytherin, she thought, _‘I’m going to be a Gryffindor, like my dad and my mum and my uncles and everybody loyal and brave’_ ; she’d show that hat!

Her name was finally called and she stomped up towards the hat, but she had only moved a couple of steps before the hat shouted, “GRYFFINDOR.”

Rose stopped in her tracks, “What?”

“You heard me,” the hat said loudly, “I can hear your thoughts from over here, and I’m surprised they couldn’t hear you in the back of the hall too.”

The hall erupted into laughter once again and cheering too, from the Gryffindor table. Rose marched past the hat and gave its stool a bit of a kick on the way, eliciting even more laughter. Red faced and smouldering she joined Dawnsfirstbloom amongst her family members and missed the sorting of the last student. They all started slapping her on the back and congratulating her. She calmed down and cheered up a bit. James reached past Fred and gave her a one-armed hug, “Good on you kiddo, the first person _ever_ to be sorted without putting on the hat.” 

That brought a smile to her face as she looked around and saw the admiration on all their faces. She cheered right up, it might actually be something to be proud of. Professor Longbottom put away the hat and the stool and the Head Mistress stood up.

Minerva McGonagall cleared her throat and silence descended upon the hall. “Well it’s dinner and a show at Hogwarts tonight.” The students laughed appreciatively, “After these exciting events, anything I wish to say will just get lost in the confusion. So we might as well begin the feast.” With that the plates filled up with food and everyone began to eat.

Rose was starving and began to shovel food onto her plate and then into her mouth. Dawnsfirstbloom beside her could pack it away too, for such a small being. Rose had seconds then the mains ended and the deserts began – she had seconds of that too.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

A few were still nibbling at their deserts when McGonagall stood once more. “So once again we start a school year. There are the usual announcements. Mr Filch has compiled his usual list of all items which are banned and unsurprisingly it reads like a catalogue for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. The full list is available, by request from Mr Filtch, or you could cut out the middleman and just pick up a WWW catalogue next time you visit Hogsmeade.”

There was laughter from round the hall and next to Rose, Fred said, “This doesn’t sound like the Minnie we all know and love, I wonder what’s gotten into her.”

“Speaking of Hogsmeade,” McGonagall continued, “Visits to the village occur on Saturdays throughout the year and are open to students of Third Year and above who have written permission from their parents or guardians.”

“Speaking of leaving the school grounds, I have to say yet again, that the Forbidden Forrest is forbidden for a good reason. With the addition now of a few hill giants and a tribe of trolls, it is even more forbidden if that’s at all possible.”

From beside Rose, Dawnsfirstbloom let out an ‘aw’ of disappointment. 

“Not that it matters to some and yes I’m looking at you combined Scamanders, Weasleys and Potters.”

“And that brings me onto some actual news. The previous announcements I couldn’t exactly call news, as I say the same things every year.”

“I have to announce that this year will be my final one as Headmistress. I am going to retire.”

There was a massive ‘Oh’ from the students and quite a few ‘No’s!’ as well. Fred Weasley shouted out, “Don’t go Minnie, we still love you.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second Mr Weasley,” McGonagall replied, “The number of times you’ve served detention with me, I thought there must be something more to it.”

Fred went red, but laughed along with everyone else.

“No I simply must retire while I still have any sanity left. With this latest bunch of Weasleys and Potters - one of which was so Gryffindor she didn’t even need to put the hat on her head – I fear it may be the last straw and I want to get out while I still can.”

“I also regret to inform you all that Madam Pomfrey will also be joining me in retirement. We have both served this school together for so many years and we intend to leave together. We plan on going on a grand tour next year before easing into a hopefully restful retirement.”

“So if that is all …” she was interrupted by another teacher, she leant down to hear what he was saying.

“Ah yes,” she said straightening once more, “Quidditch… How could I forget? House Quidditch captains have been assigned and they will post schedules for tryouts. I have been informed by several heads of the houses, especially my own, that with the graduation last year, a significant amount of talent left the school. As such I’m extending the Quidditch tryouts to all years, including first, but don’t make me regret it.”

There was an excited buzz from throughout the hall. James and Fred turned to Rose, “You have to try out,” James said, “especially if we’ve lost Albus to the Slytherins. Though maybe we haven’t,” James mumbled almost to himself, “I should talk to Wood asap.”

“You bet I’ll try out,” Rose said.

“That-a-girl,” James said, snapping his attention back to her and patting her on the back.

“So if that is all,” McGonagall said over the hubbub, “I wish you all a good night. Prefects will show you to your dorms and time-tables will be handed out on Monday Morning. Good Night.”

 

* * *

 

 **So my fourth chapter and the sorting of the two cousins and their friends.**

 

 **I have never seen multiple-house-sorting before, maybe it is out there, but I haven’t seen it. I don’t think, of course, that this is what necessarily should happen, but I wanted to try it out to see what it revealed about the character of Albus. If you hate it – there are plenty of other stories out there with him being sorted into one house – but please I would really love to hear what people think about it. The way to do so is that little review box under these very words.**

 

 **Also what do you think about the sorting of Rose – without even putting the hat upon her head. What do you think that means, do you like it, hate it? Again I would love to know.**

 

 **Like JKR, I believe that McGonagall is too old to be still the Headmistress. But, I have read so many next-gen stories where she still is and she is such a great fit – seeing the principle scions of the protagonists of the original tales entering school – I just had to do it. But by making this her last year, I think I can just justify it. Also it allows me to be a bit free and easy with her characterisation knowing that she knows this is her last go around.**

 

 **And lastly the Hat’s song – I hope you like it, I just had to give it a go.**

 

 **As always a big thank you to Loonylovegood67890 for a great job at beta-ing.**

 **This story has been edited after a long and wonderful correspondence with a remarkable and wonderful correspondent: Beeezie@HPFF, aka, Abhorsen@TDA. She was worried about the sexualisation of my main character caused by having the 'pervy boy' grab her on the arse. This has now been excised and exists only in this author's note. She convinced me of my error, after a long and exhaustive argument on both sides (never nasty, always constructive), when she finally brought to my attention that it was something that never occurs to male characters - why should it happen to female ones?  
**

 


	5. Rose Gets Settled In.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which nothing much hapens to contradict the title.
> 
>  
> 
> Rose's expectations are largely fufilled; what the night sky means to Dawnsfirstbloom; Rose Readers; and, Rose's opinion of the Statute Forbidding the Underaged Use of Magic. 

**Note: If I was writing about Roslyn and Dawnsfirstbloom  going to the Goldenlion House - it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

  
**  
** **... hey wait a sec, Dawnsfirstbloom is mine, all mine BWHA HA HA!**  


 

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.**

 

The main banner and all chapter images have been painted by myself. 

* * *

**Chapter 5   Rose settles in**

 

 

Rose and Dawnsfirstbloom followed the prefect up the corridor to their new home-to-be for the next seven years. All the stories and tales she’d been told over the years, especially by her dad - Uncle Harry and her mum were far more reticent – had built it up in her mind and it was every bit as good as she’d expected. It was just as her dad had described it: the painting of the Fat Lady and her ridiculous, often food inspired passwords (it was jam-roly-poly at the moment); the wonderful red and gold common room with the massive fireplace and the comfy lounges; the twin stairways either side leading up to the dorms; and finally there was her own four-poster bed with her trunk placed neatly at the foot of it. 

She’d listened countless times, while she was growing up, to her father’s stories about his days at Hogwarts. Quite often before she’d go to bed, Rose would ask for the Thestral ride, or Killing the Basilisk, or Malfoy the Bouncing Ferret, or even when her dad had coughed up the slugs from his own misplaced curse. Not all his stories showed him in the best of lights which she thought was rather good, as it made it more likely that he was actually telling her the truth. He didn’t paint himself as the hero (though he was in his little girls eyes), quite often Harry got all the glory, her dad was fallible and human. He did right and wrong and to Rose as she became older and could appreciate them on more subtle levels she could see his actions as that of a good man who was just trying to muddle through and do the best he could. A lot of Rose’s intrinsic ‘goodness’ she learnt at her father’s knee.

She’d gone to sleep as a little girl with dreams of magic dancing through her head and now she was here and it was every bit as exciting as she had hoped it would be. The only sour part was that Albus wasn’t here to share it with her. Oh, he’d probably be here sometimes, but this was the first night and it wasn’t how she’d always imagined it would be.

And it was a real little sour note too; the more she thought about it the more it niggled at her. Albus had been her best and main friend for years. Growing up as closely as they had and having similar likes, they had both spent a lot of time in each other’s company. And to have it all spoilt by that blond headed, stuck up, upper-class git who was muscling in-between her and Albus’ friendship … ugh. She had to calm down and wind it back a bit because she knew she was being unfair. That look in his eyes when he thought that Albus had been about to hit him had been awful. She could see the terror, thinking he was going to be beaten, but the thing that had gotten to her the most was the look of resigned acceptance – like Scorpius thought he didn’t deserve any better treatment.

Now that he wasn’t here, directly in front of her, Rose could be a bit more magnanimous towards Albus’ new friend. It was only natural that Albus would find some male friends, just as she supposed she would find girl friends of her own. Albus wasn’t upset or anything that she had made friends with Dawnsfirstbloom was he, so why should she be upset (jealous?) of him and Scorpius? But as she thought about Scorpius and the image of him that she had seen when she tried to get back on the train, she began to feel uncomfortable again. What was there about him that got under her skin so much? She felt so much more … she couldn’t think of anything more apt than uncomfortable, around him. Far more so, even, than with that pervy shithead who'd pinched that girl in the line before the sorting, the one who might have pinched her as well.

She sighed to herself. She had to let it go; she knew she was being unfair and unjust and it wasn’t like her, so she would try better – to be more friendlier – tomorrow.

Rose’s attention was brought back to her immediate surroundings; Dawnsfirstbloom’s bed was next to hers with a window in-between. Rose noted the absence of a trunk at the foot of Dawnsfirstbloom’s bed; instead there was just a small suitcase. They both bounded over to the window but could see nothing outside except the black lake bounded by black hills under the black night sky – and stars, stars everywhere. There were no city lights, no smog or light-pollution to get in the way, just wondrously bright pin-points of light. It was almost impossible to see where the land ended and the sky began because the glassy surface of the lake reflected every star in the heavens above. It seemed that the world outside their window contained nothing but stars. Rose couldn’t wait to see the view by day, it promised to be just as spectacular.

Rose turned from the window with a huge smile on her face to regard Dawnsfirstbloom. Dawnsfirstbloom, who had levered herself up on the window sill so she could see outside properly, also turned away from the view and Rose could see she had tears in her eyes. Rose immediately became concerned; she reached out a hand and held Dawnsfirstbloom’s shoulder. “Is everything OK?” she asked.

Dawnsfirstbloom sniffed, “Yeah, it’s … it’s just that till … well I suppose it was till only yesterday … I lived in a hole in the ground, and that hole was in the middle of London. I just … I just never even imagined …” and she gestured vaguely out the window with her free arm.

Rose’s heart went out to the poor little goblin girl: thrust into a society so alien from any she’d known; humans not goblins for companions; a castle and spells and wands; so meagre were her possessions, that all she had could fit into a small case; and the view must have been the final straw. Rose clasped the little goblin to her in a fierce embrace, “No matter what, you’ll always have me – if it gets too much or if you just want to talk or anything, just come to me. OK?”

They heard sounds from the doorway and broke apart to see the other Gryffindor first years entering the room. They all said ‘Hi’ and Rose said a cheerful ‘Hi’ back. During the sorting Rose had not been paying terribly much attention and afterwards she sat with her family and not with the other new first years. So the upshot of it all was that, besides Dawnsfirstbloom, she knew none of her other dorm mate’s names. One girl with dirty-blond hair she sort of recognised from somewhere. Then she remembered; she was the daughter of one of dad’s old school mates – something Finnegan. She’d met her once or twice at her Uncle Harry’s New Year’s dos. The Finnegan girl – _‘what was her first name?’_ Rose thought – said “Hi Rose, glad we both got into Gryffindor. I think my dad might have killed me if I didn’t."

Rose shared a rueful grin with her in agreement. 

With her was a tall, striking black girl with her hair done in tight corn-rows. She strode over and introduced herself. She held out her hand and Rose took it as the girl said, “Hello, Rose Weasley isn’t it? I’m Asheya ___” and said a last name that sounded African in origin and had way too many Syllables and was said way too quickly for Rose to remember.

The other two girls came in and gave brief, but friendly ‘Hi’s and ‘We are’s before going to their own beds. Rose was still too caught up with Asheya and didn’t pay them too much attention, but she registered a quiet, little, seemingly timid girl with long dead straight dark brunette hair which hid most of one side of her face. With her was a larger, she didn’t want to say chubby, but she was on the plus side of curvy, dirty-blond haired girl. She, unlike the Finnegan girl who had a short bob-style, wore her hair up in a single pig-tail that reached the middle of her back.

They all knew who she was, not just from the sorting, as it turned out, but from before. She had forgotten that her picture had been in Witch Weekly with Albus. They’d been photographed in Diagon Ally when they went to get their school stuff. There was no article accompanying the picture, it had been in one of those ‘Seen Out and About’ pages with other photos, mostly of Quidditch players getting coffee together, and high up Ministry officials doing things and so on.  James had showed her, he loved that stuff, 'Aww, look at the little titches getting all set for Hogwarts.' Anything with a picture of anyone from the family in any paper or magazine, he cut out and put in a big scrapbook.

Rose gathered up her toiletries and walked to the bathroom to prepare herself for bed. Dawnsfirstbloom joined her as she was brushing her teeth. “This is so good,” Rose said, “it’s just like I’ve always dreamed it would be.” She was about to add ‘how about you’ when she remembered how Dawnsfirstbloom was feeling earlier, “sorry, that’s a bit insensitive of me.”

Dawnsfirstbloom blew out her cheeks, “Nah, that’s OK, it is really great and all, it’s just that,” she paused, gathering her thoughts, “it’s just so different from a month ago, so much bigger and newer and … different. Only a month ago I didn’t know what was going to 'appen to me. I was lookin' at probably either being a kitchen menial, pot scrubber or the like – maybe one day working my way up to being a cook, wow!” the way Dawnsfirstbloom said it, Rose could tell she didn’t think of it in anyway as being a ‘wow!’ opportunity, quite the opposite.  “The other job, and it was 'alf-a-dozen-of-one six-of-the-other which one I would have got, was somethin' in tunnel maintenance.  There was only a slim chance of me doing what I’d actually wanted to do. And now, a month later, I’ve got a wand, I’m going to be a witch, and …”

She started to look lost again, so adrift, that Rose enveloped her in another hug. “It’s alright. It’s OK. Really, it’s all new to me too,” she released the hug and held Dawnsfirstbloom at arm’s length, “I meant it before, we are in this together, both of us, and we’re going to be great.”

Dawnsfirstbloom managed to break into a smile and she closed her eyes as she nodded, “OK.”

\--o-O-o--

 

Rose woke early the next morning. That was one of the things she really liked about herself – she didn’t need much sleep. All she needed was four to six hours of sleep a night and she was able to fully function. In fact she couldn’t stay asleep beyond six hours anyway, she always woke up. Even if she was very tired or exhausted, she could only sleep the six hours; then she’d wake up, go to the loo, whatever; then get back into bed and sleep another few hours. But always the longest continuous stretch of sleep was only six hours no matter what, almost to the minute.

The only vice she was prone to, sleep wise, was that she often had a ‘nanna-nap’ in the afternoon. She’d get home from school, or back in from play and bunker down on the couch in front of the telly or in her bed or the comfy chair in her room with a good book and she’d be out like a light for about half an hour or so.

Getting up early and going to bed late enabled her to do so much in a day. And one of the main things was to keep fit.

She discovered she liked it during the martial arts training with Albus. Workouts and jogging had been part of her training and she’d just stuck with it.

There was another reason as well, like her father she had a fondness for food. She loved it and just like him she could shovel it away. Because of this she had to watch her weight, not in an unhealthy I-can-only-eat-an-apple-today, must-watch-my-calories sort of way. It was just simple maths: calories in plus no calories out = fat Rose. She was probably going to be tall like her dad, but she wasn’t going to be rangy with it like him. She was a bit hippy and curvy, not too much yet being only eleven, but she saw the signs of it. There was no way she’d diet – that way led to eating disorders and a lack of yummy food. So what she did was never snack between meals, except on fruit, and did plenty of running and exercise.

Everyone else was still asleep so she quietly put on her trainers and tracksuit and gathered her bushy red air up into a loose ponytail and wrapped a hair tie around it. She liked to exercise listening to books and spoken word stuff. It was easy in the gym at the martial arts place – all the treadmills were set up to plug headphones into or you could put a book onto a bracket and actually read.

But she liked to run outdoors so she needed something portable. It was very revealing how both her parents went about solving the problem for her.

Her mum had invented a spell, a charm, which you could cast upon a slip of parchment. Like a bookmark, you’d slip it into the book on the page you were up to and it would read aloud the contents of the two pages. It even had simple controls; when you made one, at the top of the parchment (so it will stick out from the book), you had to draw an up and down arrow and next to them some sort of button/circle. Once the charm took effect, touching the up or down arrows would increase or decrease the volume and the button/circle would make it start or stop. It remembered where it had stopped and, as long as you didn’t take it out of the book, restarted from the same place when you pressed start again.

Her dad, on the other hand, had bought her an i-pod.

Now it might seem like her dad had done the easier thing, but … he’d had to ask Uncle Harry to buy it for him. Then had to ask Harry again about how to set it up, but had then been passed onto James to get onto the computer to set it up with everything Rose needed, like an account to the talking books website. Then he had to have it explained to him where it could be used in the house, how you couldn't use magic around it and all the things that went with integrating Muggle technology alongside magic. It took him weeks and back and forth and effort and had him almost pulling his hair out by the end. Her dad didn’t ‘do’ computers and technology - he simply hadn't been brought up with it in the way Hermione, and now their kids, had.

Her mother, on the other hand, said she’d spent a while thinking about how she’d do it while she was cooking or going to work. Then she constructed the charm one pleasant Saturday afternoon, working over arithmancy tables, ancient runes and a sizable pile of scrunched up, discarded parchment.

She liked both and used both, but truth-to-be-told she preferred the talking bookmark. Especially since her Uncle George had solved the problem of it only reading out loud.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Rose often went to one of Uncle George’s shops (like a few of the other cousins did) on spare weekends and holidays to work and earn a bit of extra pocket money. Rose spent her time there mainly working out the back, sorting and organising and re-stocking the storage area. Most of the others, but especially James and Fred, liked it out the front; serving behind the counter and talking to the customers. But Rose, with her organised and methodical mind liked the solitude and peace of the storage shelves. Uncle George could do it, and had to when Rose wasn’t around, but once she’d organised the shelves better than it ever had been, it became her job from then on whenever she was available.

It was whilst she was cleaning up one day that Uncle George walked in and heard and saw the talking bookmark. One quick explanation later and Uncle George was looking gob-smacked.

“What,” she’d asked.

“You mean to tell me your Mum knows a simple charm, that no one else knows, that can be done on a scrap of parchment, and it will read a book to you?”

“Um, about that Uncle George,” Rose began and tentatively admitted that she could do the spell herself even though she was under-aged. She thought she was going to get into trouble because her uncle was just staring at her with his mouth slightly open. Until he caught her up in a massive hug, saying, “That’s my girl Rosie – I knew you were a true Weasley. Breaking the rules about the restriction of under-aged magic … you make your old uncle proud. With the way you liked sorting and organising,” he waved his arm at the shelves around them, “We thought we may have lost you to becoming another Percy or even a Molly II. Nope you are truly one of us, but remember this; me and Fred,” George put his hand over his heart, “(May he never rest in peace) only ever broke the unimportant rules. We never hurt anybody (except maybe their pride) we only broke the rules that adults made who just wanted to make up rules to stop other people from doing stuff – probably stuff they were too chicken to do themselves.” He finished saying as he ruffled up her already over-bushy hair.

She extricated herself from his embrace and truthfulness forced her to add, “Thanks Uncle George, but I was trying to say, they don’t last. After about a year, or so, the charm wears out and you have to make another.”

Uncle Georges mouth dropped open again, “So they are cheap, exclusive, made out of paper AND they have to buy a new one every year!”

Since then her time in the shop was split between sorting and making Rose Readers, as Uncle George had marketed them. He had printed up a stack of parchment with several Rose Readers per sheet. Rose had to cut them up, to a large bookmark size, and cast the charm on them. Each one had a stylized rose printed at the top, you pressed the rose itself to start or stop the reading and two petals were the volume controls. It always spoke with Rose’s voice as she was the one to do the charm.

Yeah, she knew she was under-aged, but it was only half a year till she was going to be in Hogwarts; and it was a simple spell when she saw her mum do it; and it was her spell anyway; and Uncle George wasn’t going to blab; so why shouldn’t she use it? 

As to the ban on underage magic, she knew her way around that too. Her mum being in Magical Law Enforcement might have had something to do with it, as well as Rose’s basic nature, but Rose liked knowing the rules: rules at home; at other people’s houses; Muggle laws; wizard Laws; all the Rules. Rose had picked up her mum’s wand one day and had been told she shouldn’t as it was against the law. Expressing how unfair that was in no uncertain terms, her mum had explained all the reasons behind it. That had calmed Rose down because she had seen the necessity, but knew in her heart of hearts that it didn’t need to and shouldn’t apply to her.

So she looked it up in some of the law books her mother had at home. The books were too dry and boring to read all of the laws, but she found the section she wanted and found her way around the Statute. The Ministry could only detect if spells were used in a residence and not by whom – so, as long as she only did spells when there was an adult at home, she would be OK.

At home she used one of the spare wands they kept there. It was another one of Uncle Harry’s safety initiatives. “My dad was killed without being able to defend himself with a wand when Voldemort burst in.” He’d said. “So it can never hurt to have an extra wand or two in strategic places around the house.” At the shop she used Uncle George’s wand and he was happy to let her.

Uncle George had solved the problem of it only reading out aloud by a subtle adaptation of his extendible ears. So now there were the wizarding equivalent of headphones to go along with them (sold separately, of course or in a starter pack together).

 

\--o-O-o—

 

So she got the book she was reading; put in the Rose Reader; put the book in a pouch she had made for that very purpose; plugged the headphones into her ears; and went off for a jog around the lake.

 

* * *

 

 

  
**Author's note:**

 **So the latest chapter and not very much happens except some character development stuff. I originally thought it too short with not much going on, but it was too long and didn’t fit with any of the chapters that came before or after. And my beta liked it – so that’s all that matters to some extent. Speaking of my wonderful beta Loonylovegood67890, she didn’t have to do that much this chapter – finally, finally I must be putting in enough description – except to offer me encouragement, kind words and to explain something I had glossed over. *sighs* I’ll get it right one day, but I suppose that is why we all must have an editor.**

 **Of all the things, the one that I wanted to explain was the sleep thing. Those are my sleep patterns, I can only sleep for six hours straight and I quite often have a ‘nanna nap’ in the afternoons or when watching a TV show I want to see. I must say though, Rose spends her time far more profitably than I do, probably much less time playing computer games.**

 **In porting this story over to AO3, I have been updating the thing and fixing up some old mistakes. I've also picked up a new reviewer - I'm looking at you Nezzy (NMcG) - who leaves these wonderful little reviews - full of praise and full of censure, both of which I love. One of the things that she condemned me for was my sexualisation of my main character, a hold over from the mistake in the chapter before which Beeezie/Abhorsen found. It was only a sentence or two, but was age inappropriate and not right. It has been changed, and changed for the better. This is the wonderful thing about these fan fictions, they are living documents and adaptable with the valued input from the readers themselves.**

 ****


	6. An Afternoon with Hagrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the four friends spend most of their first day with Hagrid.
> 
> An invite is given; an invite is accepted by more than Rose first assumed; Hagrid comes to a realisation; the Nature of Giant food; and, tall tales but true are told.
> 
>  
> 
> _“Are you sure, I wouldn’t be intruding?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _“Don’t be silly Scorp, of course you can come.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Scorpius rounded the corner and came into view. “I didn’t say he was invited.” Rose said churlishly._

**Note: If I was writing about Roslyn and her cousin Albert and Serpens and Dawnsfirstbloom having morning tea with the half giant Hagen - it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec, Dawnsfirstbloom is mine, all mine BWHA HA HA!**

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.**

The main banner and all chapter images have been painted by myself.

* * *

**Chapter 6: An Afternoon with Hagrid**

 

Rose arrived back at the castle after her morning jog, happy that her first morning there she had started as she meant to go on. She’d initially wanted to run around the lake until she had seen the size of it. There was no way she could go round all of it in one early morning run and, besides, one side of the farthest shore was basically in the Forbidden Forest and the other led to Hogsmeade. There was no way she was going to break the rules and go to either – not on her first day at least. Though, she really didn’t know if she would ever venture into the Forbidden Forest at all during her residency at the school. From some of the tales her father told she thought they practically lived there half the time, but nearly all of that time had been fraught with danger. 

She’d instead run down and alongside the lake, done a lap of the Quidditch pitch, run back alongside the closest edge of the Forbidden Forest, past Hagrid’s cabin and back towards the school. There was a section of her run which she could tell was not heavily travelled. She had plans for that bit, definite plans; now all she had to do was work out the details. 

Whilst skirting alongside the forest, Hagrid had come out dragging something lumpy and mucky behind him. Rose had taken one look and didn’t want to enquire too closely as to its nature.

“Hey there, Rosie girl,” he called out, “If’n yer aren’t too busy later on, why don’t yer come an’ have some morning tea with us, if yer wants, and bring your friends too. OK?”

She’d instantly agreed;it was what she’d dreamed of after all. Her, and Albus of course, and now Dawnsfirstbloom – it would be just like her mum and dad and Uncle Harry – tea with Hagrid and going on adventures.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

After the hot shower that followed her healthy run, Rose felt invigorated; she couldn’t believe the rest of her dorm-mates were all still asleep. She quietly went to the window between her bed and Dawnsfirstbloom’s. The view was as spectacular as she had thought it would be last night, when she could only see by starlight; across the lake and the Forbidden Forest, behind which was a range of blue, distant mountains separating the earth from the sky. The boy’s side of the tower would have the other half of the view and – oh, she suddenly realised she couldn’t see Hagrid’s hut – so it would be visible from the boy’s window or possibly from the big one in the common room, 

The glass of the window was set into the stonework of the tower wall. It was offset from the room enough to provide a wide ledge that was just the right height and just wide enough to sit on comfortably. 

So she did.

Sitting there, calming down from the morning run and admiring the view; she knew she could get used to it. The sill was just a little too cold to sit on for very long, so she’d have to make a pillow or cushion for it because she could see herself sitting there often. Her maternal grandmother had taught her a few Muggle arts when she’d stayed with her in Australia and sewing was one of those. She’d get one of her older cousins to get her some material the next time they went to Hogsmeade and she’d whip up something comfortable.

She sat there awhile, gazing out off into the distance and thinking happy thoughts but when she glanced at her watch she realised how much time had passed since she’d been back from her run. That was enough of a sleep in, Dawnsfirstbloom needed to be up and awake. Approaching her bed, peeking through a gap in the partially drawn curtains, it was only then that Rose realised how small a person Dawnsfirstbloom was. The tiny lump under the bedding stopped halfway along where a human would end. Dawnsfirstbloom’s personality was so large that Rose hadn’t really realised how small she was.

“Dawn … Dawnsfirstbloom,” she said.

There was no response so she tried harder.

She reached out an arm and tentatively touched her shoulder. “Dawnsfirstbloom,” she said, a little louder this time, and gave her friend a little shake.

Dawnsfirstbloom sat up, eyes still closed. “I’m wake shift-leader, sir, I’m awake. Just let me get my shovel,” she said muzzily as she began to grope around her bed. She shook herself further awake and upon not finding her shovel took in more of her surroundings.  
She looked up into the grinning face of Rose and they both burst into laughter.

A quick change later and they were seated in the Great Hall eating breakfast together. Rose outlined her morning schedule to Dawnsfirstbloom: brekkie, a bit of an explore around the castle, then down to Hagrid’s for morning tea. Dawnsfirstbloom was more than happy to go and see her gigantic friend.

“How do you know him anyway?” Rose asked. Dawnsfirstbloom refused to answer saying, “Nah, I’ll let ‘agrid tell it. ‘e loves telling the story.” And she wouldn’t say any more on the matter, even as they explored the halls together. Dawnsfirstbloom ended up distracting Rose from her enquiries and speculations by starting to teach Rose Gobbledegook. 

It was fairly easy going for Rose. As goblins had coexisted together with wizards in England and Northern Europe for so long, Gobbledegook had a very similar grammar style to English.

So Dawnsfirstbloom just pointed at things as they walked along and Rose repeated what Dawnsfirstbloom said.

"Wall." Dawn said in English.

_Then repeated it in Gobbledegook. **"Wall"** _

Rose would then have her go, **"...wall?"**

And so it went on.

Floor

_**Floor** _

_**floor?** _

_**Walking** _

_**walking?** _

_**We are walking** _

_**We are walking on the floor.** _

_**We have stopped.** _

_**Here is the Library.** _

 

They had made their way to the Library because, of course, Rose wanted to see it; it was probably the place after the Great Hall and the Gryffindor Common room that she had most wanted to visit as soon as she came to Hogwarts. It was her mum’s favourite place and, as reticent as she had been talking about her adventures during her school days, her mum had waxed long and lyrical about the fantastic ‘Library of Hogwarts’. But they were also here because they thought there might be a Gobbledegook primer that Rose could use.

It was as magnificent as Rose had pictured it and just as her mum had described it. There were so many nooks and crannies formed by twisting towers of bookshelves. Tables scattered here and there - some large enough that whole groups could work at together at, and some nestled away which could fit only one or two occupants. She made her way to the Librarian’s desk – there was the roped-off, restricted section within easy view – to talk to the ancient and wizened librarian. It was the same Madam Pince as in her mum’s day. Rose asked her pleasantly where books on Gobbledegook could be found and was shown to the Goblin section.

The section was much expanded since the aftermath of the war and the acceptance of Goblins into Hogwarts. It contained a whole slew of books about goblin society and goblin history and crossed over with books about fabrication and metallurgy – the subject taught by the goblin professor. Right at the bottom was a whole row of books in Gobbledegook and on Gobbledegook.

Rose filled out the details for her library card at the desk under the nose of Madam Pince. “Ah, another Weasley hmm,” she said. “So which Weasley is your dad then?”

“Um, Ron,” Rose replied.

Madam Pince’s face softened slightly. “Oh, Hermione’s daughter. So maybe not so much of a troublemaker after all.” But then her face changed and she abruptly finished with, “Take care of the books and return them on time.”

They stashed the books in their dorm and went downstairs to go to Hagrid’s. As they got to the main entrance they ran into Albus, much to Rose’s relief.

“Oh good,’” she said. “I’m so glad I ran into you as it saves me the search. We’re going down to Hagrid’s for morning tea, want to come?”

Albus, who had just come through a doorway into the entrance hall, stopped and grinned at Rose, “Yeah, sounds like fun. Just like Dad and your parents used to do.”

Rose grinned and nodded back, she had known that Albus would get it.

“What do you think?” Albus asked, turning back into the open doorway. “Do you want to come down to Hagrid’s with us?”

Rose hadn’t heard or seen anyone else behind Albus, but she didn’t have to wonder who it was for long because a voice she recognised only too well said, “Are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

“Don’t be silly, Scorp, of course you can come.”

Scorpius rounded the corner and came into view. “I didn’t say he was invited,” Rose said churlishly.

“Don’t be so rude, Rose,” scolded Albus.

“No, that is fine,” Scorpius said. “I wouldn’t want to go where my presence would be a burden, nor intrude where I was not welcome.”

“Of course you won’t. Hagrid just said to come and bring some friends, didn’t he, Rose?”

Rose had to own to the truth of the matter and say that was the case.

“Okay, we’re all friends here, so let’s go,” commanded Albus.

Rose shot Scorpius a look that Albus missed, which communicated in no uncertain terms that the ‘we’re-all-friends-here’ didn’t necessarily include herself and him. Her temper wasn’t improved by the smirk and raised eyebrow that Scorpius returned. She stomped out of the building and down the hill to Hagrid’s with the others following in her wake.

“Hey there, sprout,” she heard Albus say behind her.

“Hi Albus, Scorpius,” she replied.

“Dawnsfirstbloom,” Scorpius returned in greeting, giving her a nod as well.

“How’d you sleep?” Albus asked of Dawnsfirstbloom.

“Awesome, it was bloody great,” Dawnsfirstbloom replied. “I wasn’t woken up by the noisy tunnel carts or the shift change bell. It was one of the bestest sleeps I’ve ever ‘ad.” 

Rose didn’t take part in the conversation, her temper wouldn’t let her, but soon enough they were at Hagrid’s door and knocking loudly.

“Ah here yer all are. Come in, come in,” Hagrid boomed, opening the door and ushering them inside. “So who do we have here, Rosie? Sprout and Albus I knows, of corse, but … yer wouldn’t be a Malfoy, would yer?” asked Hagrid taking in the boy’s appearance and hair colour.

Scorpius had stopped just within the doorway. “Yes sir, Professor Hagrid. Scorpius Malfoy at your service, sir.” And he stuck out his hand for Hagrid to shake.

Hagrid vaguely waved his hand upwards rather nonplussed, but Scorpius took it and shook hands warmly. “I do so hope I’m not intruding, sir. Albus assured me the invitation was an open one and that I would be welcomed.”

Hagrid shook himself, literally shook himself, and stood aside to let the young man in; as he did so, beginning to reassess his assumptions he’d made upon realising he was a Malfoy. Scorpius took a seat, along with the others, at the large table which dominated the room. 

Hagrid’s original hut had been destroyed in the Battle of Hogwarts. It was one of the first buildings finished and fixed in the post-battle reconstruction. Professor Flitwick and a whole bunch of workers (many of them ex-students with fond memories of Hagrid) had come down to set things right. Hagrid had tried to argue against the help but Flitwick had brushed it off. “Think nothing of it, my boy. Without you and your brother Grawp’s aid in the battle; and not to say how you carried out Harry’s body from the Forrest – I mean to say if one of them had done it and noticed Harry alive … well, I don’t think we’d have won the battle at all.” Hagrid had blinked away the tears of gratitude and allowed the tiny Professor to do as he had liked.

Consequently, though it still looked like the same hut from the outside, it was much improved on the inside by Flitwick’s impressive charm work. The main room, which the kids had entered was similar to what the room had been like in their parent’s day: a fireplace, massive old wood-burning stove and the large main table. But gone was the bunk that had been in the corner. Instead, there was a door on the right, which in a non-magical building could only have led outside as it appeared to be built into the outside wall. Being as it was a magically reconstructed dwelling it led to Hagrid’s own, separate bedroom; Rose could see Hagrid’s massive, unmade bed through the gap of the partially ajar door. 

The rest of the wall was covered with built-in storage boxes and shelves of all shapes and sizes. Every one of them was jam packed with all manner of … well, stuff: potions and medicine bottles; books and pamphlets; leaves and bark and twigs; things shoved into old bottles or jam jars and even an old plastic ice-cream container containing something gloopy and black. There were lots of stuff gathered from the forest - Rose could see an entire unicorn horn and a skein of what appeared to be unicorn tail hair just lying- gathering dust on a shelf. There was even a section which seemed to contain aquariums set up as terrariums, and Rose thought that it was probably filled with magical-hard-to-find-insects or amphibians or the like. The contents of the wall, she mused, probably amounted to tens of thousands Galleons.

The other wall, the left hand side as you came in, was completely taken up with numerous doorways one after another, of slightly different shapes and sizes. There was even one section, which had two doors in it - one over the other. Not a door split in half but two distinct doors. A large stick (or a small straight branch) stuck up out of the floor in the space between the smaller doors and the next full size door. It curved up and under the bottom of the top door. 

The back wall was entirely constructed of glass doors, which could open up and fold up and allow access to the large patio behind the hut. Outside was a massive, hewn log table with all manner of chairs around it. It was obvious from the different shapes and sizes that not all the seats were for humans. On the table was a bunch of stuff as well; amongst other things: a blackened metal contraption that looked like a trap of some kind; a big wickerwork bird cage and a giant cucumber that overhung each side of the table.

Hagrid busied himself at the stove. “I’ll just put the tea on. I’ve baked sumat for us all. Rose, if you’d be good enough to get the milk out o’ the fridge behind yer.”

Rose got up and saw that there was indeed a fridge door built into the assortment of shelving behind her, she didn’t know how she had missed it before. She noticed that the smaller, freezer door was two shelves away and one up, just out of her comfortable reach. She opened up the door to find the milk and was rewarded by fridge shelves mainly full of definitely non-foodstuffs. Here were the potions and poultices, which would obviously go off if just left out on a shelf. She really didn’t want to know what some of the slimy stuff was so she located the milk (it was behind something a garish shade of green) and quickly shut the door.

It was lucky Rose had placed the milk on the table because just after she had done so an old style alarm clock went off on one of the shelves behind her, causing her and the rest of the kids to jump.

“Is that the time? ‘scuse us kids,” Hagrid said as he put the tea mugs down on the table and went to the small door halfway up the wall. He opened it to reveal an equally small room. From where they were sitting the kids could only see the ceiling of the little room behind it. They realised that behind all the doors must be other rooms, magically constructed of course, as surely that wall should have been the outer wall of the building- just like it was on the other wall with Hagrid’s own bedroom. Out of the little doorway stepped a tiny figure onto the branch that stopped beneath the door. The branch was obviously some sort of ‘stairway’ arrangement for arboreal visitors and the little doorway must have led to it’s accommodation. 

Hagrid cupped the figure in his large hands, brought it down and set it upon the table. Out from his unfurled hands stepped a tiny figure which looked almost like a walking twig. None of the kids knew what it was until Dawnsfirstbloom leaned forward and whispered, “Wow, a bowtruckle.”

Hagrid flashed her a smile but had to turn his attention back to the little twig-man.

“Let’s just see if it’s healed then?” he said and even though his hands were huge and the bowtruckle was tiny, with careful and amazing dexterity Hagrid took a bandage and pad off the creature’s arm. “Um, nearly good enough for yer to go home ‘n back to yer tree, but I’ll just put another on yer before yer go away. Sprout, can you get the poultice out ‘o the fridge for us, it’s the…”

But Dawnsfirstbloom interrupted, “Yeah, ‘agrid, I know which one.”

All the bandaging was removed when Dawnsfirstbloom plonked a jar of sickly looking yellow muck on the table beside Hagrid. “Oh, can you also get us…” but he stopped as he saw Dawnsfirstbloom place leaf bandages and a moss pad on the table beside the poultice. He gave her a big approving smile. “Tha’s the way. Give us a hand?” Hagrid applied the pad, firstly dipped into the poultice mix, while Dawnsfirstbloom wrapped the bandages around the little creature’s arm. Hagrid beamed at her, “Couldn’t ha’ done better meself,” and gave her a pat on the back which nearly knocked her to the floor, “Ten points to Gryffindor.”

“Now, little fella,” he said, addressing the bowtruckle, “don’t go picking fights with any more crows. If the crows come to nest there agin’ let 'em, they’ll fight off other birds who’d be much more of a threat to yer tree than they would. If they be there just ter break o’ bits o’ your tree – poke ‘em with a stick; least that ways they’ll be biting a chunk out’er a stick rather than your arm.”

He had picked up the little creature as he was talking and had gone to the back wall. He opened up a glass door as tall as himself and set the little thing down outside with the words, “the bandage should fall off in a couple o’ days. By then you’ll be as right as rain.” The creature scampered away and soon disappeared into the forest beyond.

He shut the door. “Now where was I, oh yeah, I made yer all some cakes” Producing a tray of cakes for them all, he laid it on the table and turned back to the stove to brew himself some tea.

Rose looked at Albus with a grin and gingerly reached over and picked up a cake. Both of them had been warned about Hagrid’s cooking. She tapped it lightly against the table – it was as hard as a rock. Scorpius hadn’t been paying attention to Rose’s antics because he tried to take a bite out of his and he let out an involuntary ‘ow’. Rose returned hers to the plate and smiled over at Albus. She almost jumped as a voice beside her abruptly said, “What are you doing?”

Rose looked around to find Dawnsfirstbloom with a cake in her hand and munching away happily. “Why aren’t you all eating Hagrid’s cakes? They’re delicious.”

Rose looked guilty and flicked a look at Hagrid; luckily he wasn’t paying attention.

“But, Rose,” Dawnsfirstbloom went on too loudly, much to Rose’s horror, “you said your mum and dad and ‘arry Potter came down here all the time? Surely they told you how to eat ‘agrid’s cakes?” From Rose’s blank and faintly puzzled expression Dawnsfirstbloom could tell that Rose knew no such thing.

She got angry and stood up (on her chair so she could be seen over the table). With one hand on her hip she said, “’agrid!” in a stern and frankly scary kind of way.

Hagrid whipped around with a guilty what-have-I-done-now expression on his face.

“’agrid, you must ‘ave ‘ad Rose’s mum and dad and ‘arry Potter down here lots when they were at school and you never once told them how to eat giant recipe food?”

Hagrid opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He eventually said in a small voice, “But I thought they knew?”

Dawnsfirstbloom sighed in exasperation and addressed the other kids, “Giant teeth are strong; so too are goblin teeth." She grinned at them and tapped her teeth with a fingernail."If you live underground, soon enough evolution 'ands you strong teeth, ‘cause sooner or later you’ll need to eat through dirt. Humans can’t eat Giant baking straight up. You need to dunk it in your tea or a glass of milk first.”

Rose was the first to move, there was a reason she was in Gryffindor after all. She picked up a cake, dipped it into her tea and brought it up to her mouth to take a (tentative) bite. A look of amazement passed across her face and she dunked the cake back into her tea. “She’s right, they really are delicious.” The others followed suit and soon they were all eating Hagrid’s cakes with gusto. Dawnsfirstbloom just shook her head at Hagrid, who hung his head in shame under her gaze.

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the hut. Rose couldn’t bear it so she broke the awkwardness by asking the question she needed to know the answer to. “Hey, Hagrid, how did you meet sprout, I mean Dawnsfirstbloom?”

“humff, I don’ rightly knows,” he muttered somewhat sulkily.

“Oh go on Hagrid,” said Rose and Albus echoed, “Yeah Hagrid, tell us.”

Rose added, “I’ve tried to get it out of Dawnsfirstbloom, but she won’t say, because, apparently, you tell it better.”

At the mild flattery, Hagrid softened and with a big grin leant forwards, “It were when they brought the dragons back to Gringotts.”

Dawnsfirstbloom knew the story so she just grinned, but the other kids oohed appreciatively. 

“I don’ know whether yer all know it, maybe the two of yer do,” he gestured at Rose and Albus, “seein’ as he’s yer uncle and all, but it was when yer Uncle Charlie came back from overseas just at the end of the war. He didn’ know just how bad things were, or he’d a come back sooner. Anyways, they was havn’ dinner at the Burrow, tha’s Albus and Rosie’s Grans place, an all her boys was there – including Charlie and Bill. Bill was complanin’ on account o’ how they didn’ have no more dragons in Gringotts. No, I’m getting ahead o’ me-self, before that someone asked Charlie how the dragons were; then Bill complains about Gringotts not hav’in one no more and that’s when Charlie says, ‘Well, does yer want some?’”

Hagrid was grinning. “Now this sets Bill back, ‘what’ says he, an’ Charlie goes, ‘You heard us, yer want dragons back at Gringots, how many does yer wants and when?’” Hargid gave a bark of a laugh, “so Charlie explains how in certain times of a dragon’s breedin’ cycle what they needs most o’ all is dark underground spaces where they is safe and their clutch o’ eggs is safe n’ all. All they needs for themselves is quiet an’ a bit of food – say a goat or sheep every now n’ then.”

“But Charlie says to Bill that they can’t be treated the ways the last one was. An’ that’s where I comes in. Charlie says if’n there were someone he trusted, an the world trusted, ‘like Hagrid,’ he says.” And at this, Hagrid puffed up his chest and looked very proud and happy. “Cause he knows I’ve always wanted to look after dragons an’ the like, if Hagrid was ter come and check up on yer regular like, then that’d be fine.”

“An’ that’s when Bill goes and works it out with the bank an’ they come up with the term deposits. They’ve got three sections where they can have the dragons and the vaults in each can’t be touched at all while the dragons is on their eggs. An’ that’s why they alls got different times: the Welsh Greens an’ the like sit on their eggs for just over a year; the two year vault is for Chinese Fireballs and such; an’ the last one, the three to four year vault has your Heberden Blacks an’ the Hungarian Horntails an’ all that lot.”

“Oh that makes sense,” said Scorpius, but blushed as everyone looked at him. He didn’t want to say more, but Albus poked him and made him continue. “It’s just that I overheard my dad say that he couldn’t get at something in our vaults once, something he needed for the business, because it was in the long term vaults and all he had access to were the short them ones.” He said it without looking in Rose’s direction, but couldn’t help but risk a glance her way when he had finished. He was rewarded with a glare which said all too clearly ‘oh-poor-little-rich-boy-has-too-many-vaults-to-choose-from’. He blushed furiously and wouldn’t meet her gaze again.

Hagrid just nodded at him, the unspoken exchange between Rose and Scorpius not registering on his consciousness.

“An’ that’s what I does, course the goblins agree straight away – restores confidence in bank security, it does. I tells yer, I didn’ have much ter do with goblins a’ fore then, but I am always made welcome and treated right proper everytimes I go down. An’ I checks up on the dragons an’ even looks after them too, sometimes, with the dragon unit posted there. An’ they’s got other animals there too an’ I help out with them ‘n all. They always try to pay me, but I refuse,” said Hagrid proudly, “cause that way everyone knows I’m impartial, but they still give us a real fancy room an’ great meals. But it’d be worth it alone just to be able to look after the dragons.” Hagrid paused with a far-away look in his eyes.

After a while he seemed to notice the kids once more. “So there I am, down at Gringotts with the dragons an’ the other animals an’ there are always all these goblin kids, runnin’ around, gettin’ underfoot except some who are a bit more o’ a help. An’ Sprout here was one o’ the best – she was a help right from the start, when she was old enough to be allowed to be around the animals. An’ she always had a way with them; when they was sick an’ needed care an’ feedin’ them an’ keepin’ them healthy. I hopes yer is looking forward to Care of Magical Creatures?” he asked, suddenly addressing Dawnsfirstbloom.

Dawnsfirstbloom jumped up in her seat, “Yep! And I’m gonna do it all the way through too, I can’t wait. And what I’d really like to do…” But she cut herself off as she realised her tongue had gotten away from her.

But Rose prompted her and she began again, grinning like she was telling a secret. “What I’d really like to do is to go round the world after ‘ogwarts and find out all the different magical creatures, like Chimeras and Sphinxes and Manticores and Bunyips and Jackalopes and …”

“Ok, ok, we get it already,” Rose said, but the big grin on her face took the sting out of her interruption. She leant over to Dawnsfirstbloom and nudged her in the side and whispered, “Sounds like a great plan.”

They were both grinning at each other when Scorpius spoke up, “Um, excuse me, Professor Hagrid, but speaking of animals, there appears to be a rather large hound begging for entrance at the back door. May I let it in?”

Hagrid turned around to look and before he could finish saying yes, Scorpius had bounded out of his seat to open the door. He opened the same door as Hagrid had yet it was far smaller this time. It took Rose a moment to realise that what she’d taken for a pattern of separate glass panes within the door were actually doors themselves; it was a door within a door within a door … within a door -six doors in all. The one Scorpius had used was two sizes down from the door Hagrid had opened for himself; one that had been of a sufficient size for his large frame.

Scorpius approached the dog carefully with his hand out, palm upwards for the dog to sniff, held under the dogs head, not over, as you should do approaching any unfamiliar dog. The dog sniffed the offered hand and wagged its tail. Scorpius immediately dropped to his knees and began to scratch the dog’s head and neck saying, “Oh, you good dog. You beautiful,” he had a quick look, “girl you. And what have you been chasing hey? You’ve got sticks and brambles everywhere, let’s get them out yes? Good dog, you beautiful hound.” He was pulling burs and twigs from the dog’s coat as he looked back up to Hagrid. “What’s her name, sir?”

Hagrid told him it was Fangetta and was a puppy his original dog Fang had sired. Watching the boy grooming the dog in front of him decided it for Hagrid – the Malfoy boy was good people as far as he was concerned. The boy had been polite and well behaved and now this. "When we're down here, when it's just us, it's just Hagrid, Ok Scorpius." 

Scorpius turned his head and flashed him a brilliant smile of gratitude, "OK sir, I mean Hagrid."

Hagrid just nodded back in acceptance. There would be times in the years to come that Rose would come down to visit and to complain about Scorpius. Hagrid would half listen to her, and when she ran out of steam or complaints he would always say back, “Well he’s kind and good with animals.” As if that said it all.

For a while an aroma had been permeating the room, but until now had really been too subtle to draw their attention. Rose noticed it now, the smell of baking bread, and she began to realise how hungry she was. A glance at her watch told her she and the others were missing lunch. She must have said something to that effect out loud because it caught Hagrid’s attention.

“Aye, it tis an’ all,” he said, “they’ll be already serving up in the Hall no doubt, though,” and he looked abashed. “I don’t suppose … no you’ll be wanting to be with all the other kids, not some old teacher.”

“’agrid,” Dawnsfirstbloom interrupted, “if you’re inviting us to lunch just say so. We’d love to stay wouldn’t we?” The other kids all chorused yes and Hagrid beamed at them.

He sent Albus and Scorpius out to get some salad stuff from his garden. “And mind, you wash up after touching the dog.” Dawnsfirstbloom and Rose he set to laying up the table with some cold meat and butter from the fridge, and some mustards and pickles and relishes from the shelves nearby.

When the boys came back in and everything was set up for a right fine lunch, Rose stopped Hagrid, “What’s the bread like, Hagrid, we don’t have to dip it in our drinks, do we?”

”Nah,” he replied with a laugh, “it’s just normal, proper crusty bread ... though saying that,” he looked thoughtful, “the crust may be a bit hard like.” In the end all the kids except for Dawnsfirstbloom had to cut off the crusts lest they break their teeth on them.

Hagrid looked around at them all as they munched through their sandwiches and drank some of his home-made ginger beer. “You know all this and talking about dragons before, it reminds me o’ the time your dad,” he pointed at Albus, “an’ your mum,” he pointed at Rose, “an’ your dad,” he pointed at Scorpius, “an’ Neville, Professor Longbottom as he is now; were all of ‘em down here to serve detention with me. We all had to go in ter the forest, you see, ‘cause I needed help to find out what had been killing the unicorns.”

They all gasped but begged Hagrid to tell them everything. They quietly munched their sandwiches as they eagerly listened to the gigantic man's words.

“Well it all began when I needed help with my pet dragon …” and Hagrid told them all about it; how Harry and Hermione (Ron was injured at the time) helped him get his dragon to friends of Charlie’s who were going to visit him in Romania. How Draco had found out and tried to bust them, but had been caught and given detention himself. How they had then had to go into the forest; Draco playing the trick on Neville; Harry and Hermione finding the thing; and how it had eventually turned out to be a teacher being possessed by Voldemort.

The kids were entranced at the tales of their parents and Hagrid told the tale well. Adding to the pleasure was the fact that none of them had heard it before. Harry and Draco were reticent about telling the stories of their youth, it was Ron who was the storyteller, but as this tale didn’t really involve him he had largely forgotten about it. Harry and Hermione didn’t want their children’s heads full of adventure, thinking that it was OK to undertake some of the risks that they had been forced into. They also didn’t want to big-note themselves and perhaps make their children arrogant. Draco didn’t tell many of the stories of his youth for an entirely different reason, most of them didn’t show him in a terribly flattering light and he couldn’t think of much that didn’t cause him shame in the remembering. 

Eventually the story came to an end and the kids realised how late it had become. They helped to wash up and tidy away and took their leave of Hagrid. He waved them goodbye as they trudged up the hill and back to the school; the last they heard was Hagrid shouting out, “Any of you lot are welcome back at any time.”

Rose and Scorpius may or may not have heard his final invitation because it wasn’t a few steps from his house that they began to bicker. Rose, of course, had started it with some snide comment about Scorpius’ dad. Scorpius had retorted with the classic line, “Don’t talk that way about my dad.” Rose had said something along the lines of ‘why not.’ 'Your dad seemed a right piece of work, sneaking about, spying, and trying to get my mum into trouble.' And so on, and so on.

Behind them, Albus and Dawnsfirstbloom looked on in amusement. At one point, Albus leaned down to Dawnsfirstbloom and whispered something to her which made her laugh right out loud. Rose turned around and demanded to know what was so funny. When neither of them would say, the trip back to the castle ended as the trip down in the morning began – with Rose in high dudgeon, stomping ahead and the others trailing behind.

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**So a longer meeting with Hagrid. I always didn't like the way he lived in a miserable hut, especially after he had been cleared of setting a monster loose in the castle. He still lives in his hut, but it is not so miserable any more. And his food, I always thought it was a bit mean of the kids to not tell him that they didn't like it. So here's my version of a retcon.**

**The story Hagrid tells of the kids parents is, of course, an encapsulated one from events in 'The Philosopher's Stone'. The other story, of Bill and Charlie, occurs behind the scenes in an upcoming chapter of my own 'Harry Potter and the Final Year.' ahem *shameless plug***

**Apart from that, nothing much happens in this chapter except some character development for all our senior players. It was necessary to develop Scorpius’ character a bit more from that frightened little boy we saw on the train of only a day ago.**

**This chapter is no longer unbetaen, thanks to the wonderful Bittersweetflames who has not only done an amazing job on my grammar that keeps slipping from past tense to past participle, but is also a surprisingly fun correspondent, to boot.**

**As always reviews are welcome and every one is always responded to.**


	7. Hat’s for House-Elves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our major heroine fulfils an almost life-long dream.
> 
> Rose misunderstands Scorpius' reactions; Rose's assumptions are again proved to be incorrect; S is not necessarily for Slytherin; a cause of how the House of Slytherin may fall is explained.
> 
>  
> 
> _Blinky paused to consider but didn’t stop blinking. She must have reached a decision because she grabbed Rose’s free hand. “If the young Miss would follow Blinky, yes?” I will take you to those that can help, oh yes, yes, yes I shall,” she said as she dragged Rose through the kitchens._

 

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**Note: If I was writing about Roslyn going to visit the elves and meeting Blinky - then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec, Dawnsfirstbloom and Blinky are mine, all mine BWHA HA HA!**

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

The main banner and all chapter images have been painted by myself.

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**Chapter 7: Hat’s for House-Elves**

 

Sunday

Today was Sunday.

And today was going to be better.

Today was going to go as planned (not like yesterday).

Well yesterday had been OK, better than OK if Rose was being completely honest with herself – which she wasn’t being. She’d had it all planed out; for years she’d had a dream of how it would all go: the train trip with Albus, hopefully make a new friend; get into Gryffindor together; stay up late in the common room so beloved by their parents; find a jogging path; and go down to Hagrid’s the next day.

And it all went subtly wrong. Rose couldn’t help but feel that it was mostly the fault of Scorpius-bloody-Malfoy. It was probably unfair to put the blame solely upon him, but again, Rose wasn’t being entirely fair or honest with herself. Malfoy,with his ready-made, father-bought fan club. 

Oh yeah, as good as their promise on the train, once the four of them returned to the castle from visiting Hagrid’s – there they were, the scholarship kids. They’d only just sat down to dinner when Malfoy was surrounded by that older boy she’d seen on the train and the rest of the scholarship kids. The boy in charge, no, the ‘chair’ as he called himself. _‘How pretentious,’_ thought Rose. 

‘The Chair’ was the first to greet Malfoy but he had all the others around him and presented them to Malfoy one by one. Rose couldn’t help but be impressed despite herself at how many of them there were. As they went by him, each kid shook his hand or gave him a pat on the back. 

Shineofiron came over to collect Dawnsfirstbloom but she waved her away saying, “I’ve just spent the afternoon with ‘im, I think ‘e knows who I am by now.” Shineofiron went off but not before she promised that she’d point out Dawnsfirstbloom to him and say how grateful she was.

And sure enough when she got to him she was true to her word. Scorpius turned around with a rueful grin and gave Dawnsfirstbloom a doleful wave. But the subtlety of the expression escaped Rose. All she saw was the grin, _‘Ah ha!’_ she thought, _‘I knew he was enjoying himself.’_

He noticed Rose glaring at him but could only meet her scornful gaze for a moment before he blushed and turned away again. He didn’t look up her way for the rest of the meal.

The one good thing about it was that it drove Albus away from the Slytherin table and he came over and sat with Rose and Dawnsfirstbloom at the Gryffindor table. 

It earned him a rebuke from James though, “Why ain’t you back with your Slytherin snaky mates, where you obviously wanted to be since you went there first?”

Albus looked up at his half-angry, half serious brother, his fork poised midway to his mouth. “I decided to brave your considerable wrath, brother dear. It proves of course, that I am brave enough to be in Gryffindor which is why the hat sorted me here first.”

James just stood there with his mouth open. Fred, who was standing beside him started laughing at James’ expense and slapped James on the back.

“He’s got you there, cuz.” He came over to Albus saying, “Good to see you’ll be spending some of your time with the _best_ of your family,” then patted him on the head, ruffling his hair.

“Don’t listen to him,” said Dominique who’d walked up and flattened out Albus’ hair, which Fred had messed up.

“That was quite an intelligent reply to your dolt of a brother, proving, of course,” she gave a nod to Albus in recognition of using his phrasing, “that you belong in Ravenclaw too. Come with me tomorrow night and I’ll show you your Ravenclaw home, OK?”

Albus nodded back to her and smiled at James who was scowling back at him.

“James,” he said, “you should build a bridge.”

James’ scowl turned into a frown of incomprehension until Albus finished saying, “because you need to get over it.”

James just spluttered in indignation but Fred guffawed with the rest of them and slapped James on the back again. As they both sat down further up the table Rose heard Fred say, “Haven’t you heard that one before? It’s as old as the hills, man.”

But that had been the night before and Rose was trying to distance herself from her perceived disappointments of the previous days. Back to today.

Today was going to be different.

Today she was going to meet the House-elves. 

Today was going to be different because there was no one else with her that would spoil it for her. It was just her, just as she’d planned it. She’d do what she wanted and it would all go as she wanted it to. 

The one thing she’d not taken into account, of course, was that it wasn’t going to be only herself involved. No, she’d completely discounted the fact it also depended upon how the House-elves themselves would take her gesture. So completely sure of herself and the positive outcome she was sure she’d receive; she went down to the kitchens with no doubts about her reception.

She’d already had her morning run and the obligatory shower after. She’d collected her bag from her dorm and there she was staring at the painting of a bowl of fruit. Tickling the pear, just as her mum had told her, it opened wide to reveal the hustle and bustle of the Hogwarts House-elves busy at work preparing the first meal of the day.

When she’d opened the door a few heads turned her way but they quickly went back to what they were doing, almost ignoring her presence. One elf did something different though and it drew Rose’s attention. He flicked his gaze towards the centre of the kitchen then looked back at her before putting his head down and ignoring her like the rest of them. Rose approached the elf anyway as she had to start somewhere.

“Um, hello there,” she began but she was brought up by his abrupt and brusque response.

“I’m busy miss,” he said not even looking up.

“But I just want to,” but again she was interrupted.

The elf glared up at her as he said, “I said I was busy, leave me alone.” With that he picked up the stack of dishes he was placing on the table and moved away to a far table and began to lay them out there, all the while studiously ignoring Rose.

Rose was dumbfounded and she felt tears prick at her eyes. This was the other thing she hated about herself. She hated her propensity to blush but it was clear where it came from: the Weasley genes. But this, it came from nowhere and she hated it. 

Whenever her emotions ran high, it was quite often that tears would start. She didn’t really cry as such, she just got teary. She loathed it because all she saw it as was a sign of weakness; her ‘frail femininity’ which she’d done her best to try and extinguish. Often, all the tears did was to make her angry. Yet funnily enough, she didn’t hate her temper and her temperament. In an amazing lack of self awareness, she didn’t even perceive them as faults at all.

She wasn’t angry at the moment, just standing there stunned at the elf’s reaction when a voice behind her made her turn.

“Excuse us Miss, but I is Blinky. Oh yes, yes, yes I is.” And the tiny elf proved the truth of her name by blinking furiously as she came under Rose’s scrutiny. 

“Why is you being here Miss, you shouldn’t be here,” and to herself she added, “oh no, no, no you shouldn’t”

Rose replied, “But I just wanted to give you something, all of you.”

Blinky paused to consider but didn’t stop blinking. She must have reached a decision because she grabbed Rose’s free hand. “If the young Miss would follow Blinky, yes?” I will take you to those that can help, oh yes, yes, yes I shall,” she said as she dragged Rose through the kitchens.

The kitchens mirrored the Great Hall above in one important way – underneath the four great house tables were four matching ones. When the food was prepared it would be placed on the tables and the elves would transport it up to the matching tables above. 

Along the edges of the room it differed greatly from the Great Hall above because that’s where the elves did the cooking. Along all the sides were stoves and benches and sinks and all manner of food preparation equipment. There were doors spaced between each cooking station on the righthand side wall through which would come elves laden down with food ingredients-obviously they led to the larders.

Rose noticed all this in passing as she was dragged to the head of the room by Blinky. In the place where there would be a space (as in the great Hall above) between the end of the house tables and the teacher’s table there was a … well Rose could only think of it as a command post.

When Rose got closer she realised that there were three rings of desks with the middle ones elevated over the ones in front. The outer ring of desks, at floor level, was occupied by elves but occasionally an occupant would come or go. Some of the tables held big ledgers and the elves at those tables would write in the ledgers as other elves came up to the tables and handed over chits. Some of the other tables held complicated mechanisms and the elves at those tables would adjust them or study them intently.

The second tier, behind the first and raised slightly on a platform, were more elves who were obviously in charge of those in front. There was about one of these tables per three tables beneath them. The elves at these tables would scrutinise those below them and occasionally bark out orders and send runners away on various tasks.

In the middle and raised above everyone, with a commanding view of the entire room, was a comfy command chair. In it sat an elf. He had been watching Rose’s progress through the hall but it was only now that Rose noticed his attention.

Everything about him seemed to say to Rose that here was the elf in charge. He was very different from little Blinky, who was shivering and blinking beside her. He was far older, not ancient, but in the prime of his life and he had clothes, unlike Blinky who only had the Hogwarts tea towels to cover herself with. No, this elf had work trousers tucked into sturdy boots, a high viz yellow shirt and over it all a leather apron. Everything about him spelt B.O.S.S. especially the imperious gaze, which he directed down at Rose.

“What do you want?” he asked brusquely.

Rose was immediately put on the back foot at his tone, “All I wanted was...” she stammered out but was interrupted by the elf.

“I know exactly what you want,” he said, overriding anything else she wanted to say. “You want food from us, like every student who came into the kitchens before you. Not even patient enough to wait a few hours when you can have all you want at breakfast.”

Rose was shaking her head no but under the verbal assault of the elf she just couldn’t articulate what she was there for.

“By the looks of you we have another Weasley in our midst; always the scourge of the Kitchens, the Weasley, as well as all the pranking. Who do you think has to clean up all the mess after a prank? Us, that’s who. Oh yeah, a professor might have to stop whatever magical mayhem is going on, but then it’s always ‘clean this up’ to us house-elves, isn’t it?”

“But I’m not … I don’t want to do pranks.” Rose sobbed.

“Please sir,” Blinky piped up from beside her, “all she wanted …”

But she was cut off by the older elf as he noticed Blinky trying to come to Rose’s aid. “Oh that’s right, take advantage of those who know no better. You come in here and straight away you are exploiting those who can’t say no to you. The unfreed house-elves have always been easy targets for you wizards.” 

He was almost shouting at her now, caught up as he was in his zeal and all Rose could do was shake her head no and try to hold back the tears. But the final straw came for Rose when, with the utmost hatred on his little face he pointed his finger at her and screamed, “Slave monger.”

Rose collapsed to the ground and started to cry. It was so unfair an accusation. Raised as she was at her mother’s knee she had such a firm abhorrence of slavery and all the evils that it forced upon the house-elves still bound to serve. 

She’d seen Kreacher and even though he wasn’t treated that badly by anyone in the Potter household, she saw how he had to obey her cousins no matter what and how he didn’t like it. She’d asked her mum why Uncle Harry hadn’t just freed him. Apparently, due to his age and the way the Black family had conditioned him, it was a kindness not to free him. It might even kill him if he was to be freed.

So to be labelled the same as those pureblood slave owners was just so unfair.

Another voice spoke up, an old female elf from the sound of it, but Rose was crying so much she didn’t look up and see the owner.

“That’s enough.”

“You’re right, that’s enough,” the boss elf shouted over the new voice. 

“I’ve had enough of catering to the whims of a spoilt elite, who will leave Hogwarts knowing no more but that house-elves are at the beck and call of their every desire.”

“Excuse ME!” yelled out Blinky from beside Rose where she’d been consoling the sobbing girl. 

“She didn’t come here to take, she came to give.” The little elf looked bravely up into the stern face of her boss and if her resolve wavered at all the only sign was a quiet little “oh yes, yes, yes she did” that she said to herself.

“Oh yeah, is that true?” the boss elf called back in a very patronising and sarcastic way. “You un-freed elves would believe anything these wizards told you. I wouldn’t trust any of them unless it was Hermione Granger herself.”

But Rose finally found her voice and yelled out, “But she’s my mum.”

Until it stopped, she hadn’t realised how noisy the kitchen had been. The noise of the working elves had lessened as the elves had slowed what they had been doing to listen in, but now at the knowledge that there before them was the daughter of Hermione Granger herself, every single elf stopped what they were doing and stared.

The silence was broken as the old female House-elf hobbled into Rose’s view. Rose hadn’t realised how old she was - the elf needed a stick to walk with - she was so hunched over. 

“That’s enough!” she said, raising her voice as she added, “Back to work everyone, breakfast in thirty.”

The noise suddenly started up again as the old elf reached Rose. 

“Come with old Nanna, dear. Blinky help her with her bag please.”

They led Rose over to some seats in front of one of the fireplaces. On their way the old elf looked up at the boss. “You see what Nanna says? No House-elf should jump to such conclusions. We House-elves need you and your fire, Trevor, we really does, but we don’t needs you to do this.” She indicated the snivelling Rose, who was just pulling herself together and gave the elf up on his podium a pointed look.

Nanna turned her attention back to Rose. “Now what did you want dear?” she asked as she put a big cup of tea in front of the seated girl. 

Rose began to tell her, starting with her name and how, since she had been a young girl, her mum had told her about the House-elves. How badly they had been treated for hundreds of years. How her mum had told her that she’d done her best to try to free the House-elves. It might take generations for it to happen for every House-elf in the world, but it would happen one day.

“Yes, that is the way with some of the oldies like poor old Nanna – too set in our ways; still too shameful for us to be wanting to be free. The younger generation,” and with this, she pointed up at Trevor, who was still staring down at them, “are able to take advantage of Hermione Granger’s efforts on our behalf. Though there are some, like Blinky here, who are throw-backs. The Miss Weasley probably doesn’t know, but Blinky is a rescue elf. There are some of the old, bad wizarding familles who are trying to go against the changes and who are deliberately trying to bring up House-elves who are still slaves.”

There was a pause as Rose digested it and looked in horror at Blinky. She wanted to reach out and hug her.

The old House-elf cut into the silence, “Now what was it you was here for Miss Weasley?”

Rose perked up, “Please call me Rose. I wanted to give you all some things I made.” And she pulled out of her bag hat after hat; mainly beanies and berets of all sizes and colours. Mostly they were in House colours, but there were some in plain colours Rose had liked the look of, and there were a few ‘rainbow’ like hats (obviously made from the remains of left-over balls of wool). 

She explained to Nanna how she’d been knitting and crocheting the hats for years; since she was old enough to learn, she’d asked her mum to teach her how to make hats for House-elves.

“So that when I came here I could set free any House-elf who wanted to.”

Nanna looked at Rose and quietly began, “Well that settles it. Nanna will just have to put up with the shame of being a free elf. Nanna doesn’t have much time left to her anyway. So Nanna may as well be free for the last few months of her life like her children and grand children will be.”

Rose heard a whisper start up and pass through the room, ‘grandmother’s going to do it’ and ‘she’s getting clothes’ and the like.

“Rose Weasley which is the very first hat you ever made?” asked the old elf.

Rose sorted through the stack and pulled out a beret. It was obviously made by a little girl – not only was its construction not as competent as some of the newer ones, it was also several shades of pink.

“Beautiful,” said Nanna and put it on her head. The silence that had descended upon the room was broken by someone starting to clap. Rose looked up and found it was the boss Trevor, standing up on his dais clapping away. He still had a stern expression on his face, but he wasn’t being sarcastic in any way because he was nodding slightly in recognition of the old elf’s actions. Soon, he was joined by all the elves throughout the room. Nanna smiled and, as much as her bent and crippled frame would allow, took a bow.

Trevor stopped clapping and the rest of the clapping quickly stopped soon after. He bowed deeply to the old elf. The rest of the elves bowed to her as well then the noise started up as the breakfast preparations began once again.

The boss elf called out, “Anyone else want clothes and be set free?”

Rose looked around eagerly, but there was no great rush of elves coming forward. She was feeling disappointed when she felt a tug at her sleeve. Looking around, and then down, she saw it was Blinky. The little elf’s eyes were screwed shut and she was literally shaking with fear. She pointed with her free hand (not the one gripping Rose’s arm) towards the pile of hats, but didn’t say anything – couldn’t say anything.

Rose could see how frightened the poor little thing was so she decided to take pity on her and talk where the elf couldn’t. “Do you want a hat, Blinky?”

The elf nodded her head spasmodically.

“You don’t have to. No one wants to force you to.”

Blinky tightened her grip on Rose’s arm and nodded again, little fast nods this time.

“Ok then, I know the perfect one.” Rose hunted through the stack and found the one she wanted.

“Blinky, look at me,” Rose commanded and the little elves eyes shot open. She could no more disobey a direct order than she could willingly stop breathing. 

“Blinky, I can see how frightened you are, but you are still going to do it. I saw you stand up to the boss for me, too. You are so brave. My house prizes those who are brave and loyal too. Would you do me the honour of becoming an honorary member of my house, and, I think, the best house- Gryffindor?”

Rose held out the beret. It was one of the newer ones and was impressively made. It was bright red with gold trimming and worked cleverly into the stitches of the top was the Gryffindor lion, also in gold.

With timid and shaking hands Blinky reached out and took the offered hat. Trembling, she closed her eyes again and put it on her head. Nothing really happened, no music or lights or bells; nothing like what happened in the movies. All that did occur was that Blinky opened her eyes – blinked once, of course, or she wouldn’t have been Blinky - and breathed out, “I’m free.”

Rose hugged her and said into her ear, “Welcome to Gryffindor.”

In the end there was only one other elf who wanted her freedom that day. She came up shortly after the scene with Blinky. Blinky was having a quiet sit down with Nanna; she’d been excused from further duties for the day and was sitting next to the elderly elf looking rather shell-shocked and was being comforted.

The elf, Honey by name, said she had been thinking about her freedom for a while. She politely asked for a Ravenclaw hat as she liked the blue and the bronze of their colours and she also liked to read. Often, Honey would ask to be assigned to clean up their dorms and common room because they were often all just sitting around reading and studying.

As Rose handed over the beret, Rose noted the rude elf, from when she first entered the kitchens, hanging around the ends of the tables nearest to her and often glancing her way. This reminded her of all the reasons for her visit to the kitchens today so she raised her voice and said, “These are not just for freeing elves. I also made hats for already free House-elves too. If anyone wants one I made lots, so please come up and take one."

That got a response and the first to arrive was the elf from earlier. He went straight to the pile and pulled out a dark green beanie with silver edging and a silver pom-pom on top. It was a reasonably new one and, so, was well made. He pulled it over his head and his ears popped out from special holes in the sides. 

He turned to face Rose, his chin held high and the silver ‘S’ stitched on the front obvious in the kitchen light. He pointed to the ‘S’ and said, “Because my name is Stephen.” He gave her a nod of thanks (it was all the apology for earlier she was going to get) and went back to work.

Most of the free elves availed themselves of a hat each. Two nervous elves got a couple each because they asked so nicely, and they said that they wanted a couple of different colours to match their other dresses.

Breakfast had well and truly started by the time Rose had packed up the handful of hats that remained – all that was left of years of work, but as she looked around the kitchen and saw elf after elf wearing her hats she didn’t feel sorry at all. 

She was then shown to the end of the Gryffindor table (well, the mirror of the real one in the Great Hall above) by Blinky and given a bacon sandwich. She ate it one handed because not once did she let go of Blinky’s hand.

Blinky had slowly calmed down under the ministrations of Nanna and by the time Rose had finished eating, Blinky appeared to be reasonably collected.

“Will you be OK now?” Rose asked and Blinky nodded and blinked in reply.

“Good, but I have to get going,” Rose said and tried to let go of the elf’s hand, but Blinky suddenly clutched it to her bosom. She stared adoringly up into the face of Rose. 

“Thank yous” she said.

Rose smiled back and on impulse hugged the little elf to herself once more and gave her a kiss on her forehead. 

“You were the brave one, Blinky, all I did was knit you a hat.”

\--o-O-o--

Rose returned to her dorm, she couldn’t stomach any more breakfast and after the emotional roller-coaster of the morning’s events she just wanted a bit of time to herself. 

As she passed through the Gryffindor common room; however, she saw Albus there sitting alone with his thoughts. Rose may have wanted some alone time but she would always welcome the company of Albus Potter.

“Everything OK?” she asked as she came over to him.

Albus, deep in thought, looked up and through Rose. It took him a while to focus in on her and break through his musings. 

“Oh, hi Rose, what did you say?”

“I asked,” said Rose, “if you were OK. Why aren’t you with your new mate and all the Slytherin snakes?”

Rose thought she’d lost him again because he just froze in place with a peculiar expression upon his face, but then he barked out a, “What?”

“I said,” she said with forced patience, “Why aren’t you down in the dungeons with all the other Slytherin snakes?”

Albus shuddered and said, “Don’t talk to me about the snakes.”

_‘Oh ho’_ thought Rose, _‘trouble in paradise already’._ So, wanting to pour oil on the flames, she said, “So the snakes are not to your liking then?”

“No,” said Albus shaking his head and running his hand through his unkempt hair. “Horrible things, I don’t know how I’m going to stand them.”

_‘Whoa’_ thought Rose, this wasn’t like Albus, it was one thing for her to call them snakes but she didn’t think Albus would. 

“Surely not all of them are that bad? You sound like you don’t want to go back?” Rose could only hope.

“I don’t know whether I can with the way they crawl over everything.” He shuddered again. “I don’t know how much of it I can cope with.”

“But surely you’ll have to put up with them sometimes; you have to share some classes with them after all?”

Albus looked at her askance, “No, I won’t, because they don’t ever leave the common room.”

Now it was Rose’s turn to look at her cousin like he was mad. “But I’ve seen them at breakfast and stuff. They have to come out of their common room sometimes.”

There was a pause as they both regarded each other, then at the same time they both said, “What are you talking about?”

Albus waved at Rose to go first.

“I’m talking about the slimy, Slytherin snakes like Malfoy and how I’m happy you’ve seen them for what they are so soon.”

Albus sighed. “Well I’m not talking about your stupid inter-house prejudice; most of the Slytherins I’ve met have been fine, actually. No, I’m talking about the actual snakes, the real Snakes-of-the-Slytherin-Common-Room.” He intoned the last like it was an actual title or something and he made a sinuous motion with his arm to illustrate his words.

Rose’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding me?” And she narrowed her eyes. “You are, aren’t you? This is one of your jokes, isn’t it?”

Albus held his hands up, palms out, “Oh no, Rose, I-kid-you-not. There are snakes all over the Slytherin common room. Apparently it’s like the Tower of London, you know, with the Ravens – England will fall if the ravens ever leave the tower. Well it’s like that, the legend has it that if the snakes were to abandon the House of Slytherin it will fall and be no more.”

Rose was still looking at him sceptically. Albus gave a shrug and a rueful grin. “I don’t know what I can say to make you believe me. Come down and have a look if you want; see for yourself.”

“I wouldn’t go near the Slytherin common room for anything,” she bit back.

“Don’t worry Rose I know what you mean, I don’t want to go back either with all those things crawling around, but I know I’ll have to sometime.”

That reminded Rose about Malfoy and so she asked about his whereabouts and why Albus wasn’t with him.

“Oh, he’s off with the Malfoy Scholarship kids; they’ve got a meeting or something. That’s probably where your mate Sprout is too. Apparently, it’s going to go on for most of the afternoon. I was thinking Rose, do you want to come and explore the castle with me; just the two of us?”

Rose’s face lit up. This was what she’d dreamed of. She liked Dawnsfirstbloom but Albus was her oldest and best friend. They’d often talked about what they were most excited to see once they got to Hogwarts, especially in the last year when they were so near to going. This was their chance to wander about, just the two of them.

So the rest of the afternoon was as wonderful as the events of her first arrival in the kitchens had been aweful. Rose spent the whole afternoon exploring the castle with Albus; it was wonderful and glorious. They did their best to avoid meeting anyone else by ducking behind tapestries and hiding behind suits of armour when they heard anyone approaching. They both knew of the map of course, James had found it and wasn’t selfish about that sort of stuff and had told them all about it. So they knew it would tell them where all of the secret passages and rooms were, but the two of them wanted to find out some of the things all by themselves. So every tapestry they encountered they looked behind, every statue too, they pulled at every torch on the wall trying to find secret passages. They did find a couple of little shortcuts as well as hidden courtyards and dusty old abandoned rooms and even concealed nooks with views were you could see but not be seen. Rose laughing and running with Albus by her side, spent the time chasing her dreams all throughout the castle.

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**Thank you for reading.**

**So the House-elf issue, it needed some tweaking otherwise all of Hermione’s efforts in the books would have been for naught. If you read my other story you will find the beginning of this detailed there in an upcoming chapter.**

**Thank you to my wonderful beta, Carla aka Bitersweetflames, who again did a wonderful job fixing my tenses and giving me lots of wonderful comments.**

**Oh, and the first person who correctly identifies where I 'stole' the speech pattern for Blinky from will get two reviews back from me. In a recent edit I did amend them slightly so that it was clearer where I borrowed her expressions from. Remember all reviews will always be responded to.  
**


	8. Rose's First Lesson: Transfiguration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Heroine finally gets to do some magic (legally)
> 
> Rose gets to star in her own story; Human-ifying and goblin-ifying; a new chosen one, possibly; The finer points of Transfiguration.
> 
> _"Well done Miss Weasley, five points to Gryffindor," and in a voice which only rose could hear added, "for not pretending to be anything other than yourself."_

**Note: If I was writing about Roslyn and Dawnsfirstbloom being taught Transfiguration by Professor MacGregor - then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec, Dawnsfirstbloom is mine, all mine BWHA HA HA!**

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.**

The main banner and all chapter images have been painted by myself.

* * *

Chapter 8: Transfiguration

 

Monday.

Today was Monday.

And today was going to be better.

Today was going to go as planned.

(Not like yesterday, or the day before, or even the day before that one when they all arrived here on the train.)

Yes, she knew that yesterday had improved in the afternoon; running around the castle with Albus.

And yes, yes, nothing went really wrong and everything worked out in the end; she’d set free a few house-elves and given away most of her hats.

And yes, yes, YES! She knew it wasn’t really all Malfoy’s fault, but she could still blame him … ish … somehow.

Anyway …

Today was Monday and everything was going to be coming up Roses (pun intended) from here on in.

She’d had her invigorating morning run: check!

A refreshing shower afterwards: check!

She was in the Great Hall now with a good book and her school bag, dressed and ready for the start of the first day of lessons: check, check and check!

It would be a while before the breakfast proper began – there was only one other student her besides herself, _'oh here comes another one'_ – so she settled herself down to read. She wanted to finish her novel soon if she could, as she didn’t know how much spare time she’d have for reading once the studying began.

It was a book her Gran had sent over from Australia, the second in the Troubletwisters series by Garth Nix. It was about two young kids, twins, just discovering magic existed in their world, just discovering they had powers too. The boy had shadow type powers and the girl had air/light stuff. It wasn’t too bad, not too bad at all.

Rose loved to read.

Anything really – she read fiction and non-fiction, textbooks and novels, teen and adult. She loved some of the classics but she also loved thrillers and science fiction and history and etcetera. She didn’t like fantasy so much, not the high-fantasy stuff anyways. Lord of the Rings was good, but much of the rest of it left her cold. She didn’t mind urban fantasy though, those were great – the ones where it was set here and now but had some magical or even science fiction elements. Like strange powers or escaped aliens from another world or finding magic gems or whatever. Her Gran had put her onto them when she had stayed with her in Australia last year.

The girlfriends she had made over there all loved them too and what made them especially good for Rose, what gave her a little frisson of delight, was how it was all sort of true for her.

She’d met some witches and wizards in Australia, but mostly she’d been in Primary school with muggles. So she and all of her girlfriends read these books about undiscovered princesses from another dimension or magical powers suddenly coming to the fore, etc etc. And all Rose could think was, _‘this is going to happen, it’s about to happen, to me. I’m going to get a wand and do spells and go to a wizarding school, probably the best one in the whole world.’_

She also liked how, even though all the books were so different, they all came close but still just skirted around the reality. In some it was elemental powers; one had enhanced reflexes and senses; another few had the kids being vampires or werewolves; and some they were the children of old gods. Nothing was spot on. Some came close, but it amazed Rose how inventive the Muggle writers were. How starved for magic and fantasy the mundane world was that they had to invent such stories and fictions.

So her Gran kept her up with the adventures in those fictionalised worlds so close to hers and she loved her for it.

The food appeared halfway through a chapter so she stuck a fork in the page she was up to and piled her plate high with food.

And oh what food it was. It was a full English breakfast, plus: bacon, eggs, and sausages; Fried tomatoes and mushrooms; Lashings of toast and all the condiments to match – tomato sauce, HP sauce, Whishy sauce, mustards and relishes. There was even kedgeree and kippers.

She piled her plate high, cut everything up or put it on slices of toast so that she could eat everything one-handed. She picked her book up with her left hand and began to read. She picked up a piece of toast (with bacon and egg on it) in her right hand and began to eat. She only stopped when someone sat next to her and jostled her elbow. She looked up in annoyance only to see Dawnsfirstbloom’s grinning face.

“Hi Ho, Rose G F,” she said, seating herself and reaching for the food herself.

Rose couldn’t help but grin back at her even though she’d been disturbed, but she was surprised when she looked around the hall. It was full; full of students eating and talking – the hubbub of voices and the clink of cutlery on crockery. _‘When had it become so full?’_ She asked herself, _‘Wow, I must have really been lost in that book.’_

She felt Dawnsfirstbloom nudge her again and saw a hand thrust before her face and waved around. “Earth to Rose,” she said, “earth to Rose, come back to us.”

Rose returned her focus to Dawnsfirstbloom and with a grin said, “That’s what my mum says when I space out.”

“Mine too,” agreed Dawnsfirstbloom.

“Anyway,” said Rose, her mind clinging onto a scrap of previous conversation, “What was it you said, Rose g f?’

“Yep,” she said, then nodding with each word, “Rose. Goblin. Friend.”

“Rose Goblin-friend.”

“Rosegoblinfriend.” She said with a smile, “almost sounds like a proper goblin name it does, but I’ll call you Rose GF for short.”

“OK Dawnsfirstbloom,” Rose said back with a smile, “that sounds great.”

“And you know what, since I’m goblin-ifying your name you may as well, just you ‘cause you’re my friend, why don’t you human-ify my name and call me Dawn.

They nodded and smiled at each other, but before Rose could reply she was interrupted by a polite, “Good Morning.”

“I’m sorry,” Rose began politely as she started to look up, “What can I do – uh” she stopped talking as she saw who it was.

“Good Morning to you both; Rose, Dawnsfirstbloom.”

“Hi,” Dawnsfirstbloom said cheerfully.

“Malfoy,” Rose almost spat.

Scorpius started at Rose’s tone and the use of his last name. A little less confidently and less warmly he went on. “I’m sorry to bother you both, but have either of you seen Albus this morning?”

“No we haven’t,” Rose said abruptly and because she couldn’t help herself she added, “because of you.”

If she thought that Malfoy had turned colder before … his face was positively frigid as he replied, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

All the anger and the resentment that had been bubbling under her surface came to the fore. All the wrongs she had suffered over the last few days that she had unjustly attributed to Scorpius caused her to spew forth. “You know why Malfoy. If it wasn’t for you, Albus would have been here right where he belongs, with his family. Because of you there’s already friction and fighting between him and his brother,” stretching the truth slightly, “As well as what his Parents and Uncles and the rest of his family will think about him spending his first night in Slytherin. Don’t come round to us looking for him, we’re not your friends Malfoy.”

She could tell with that last she’d hurt him. His cool masked slipped for a moment and she could see his hurt. For once she could read his emotions and she reveled in his pain – she hoped it was as great as she’d suffered over the past few days.

A small part of her though went ‘twang’ at his anguish. Almost all of her was relishing his discontent and upset, but it was that one small bit which stood out and felt appalled at her behaviour. It was a similar bit of her, a similar feeling in some ways to the one she’d felt on the train station when she’d looked up into his fine grey eyes. So - because she didn’t understand it and had no real framework around which to even begin to examine this strange feeling – she squashed it down and buried it. Was she also beginning to feel a bit guilty about hurting him so much? But those feelings were squashed by her interpretation of what he said in reply.

Scorpius had straightened up, ram-rod stiff and every word was clipped and precise as he said, “I do apologise, from our interaction on the Express and our time together at Professor Hagrid’s dwelling I had assumed a degree of familiarity which was obviously not reciprocated. Thank you for informing me of my error; rest assured I shall not make the same mistake again. Good day Miss Weasley.” And with that he stalked away back to his house table.

Rose took in the formal nature of his words and (almost deliberately) chose to misinterpret his manner, “Pompous git,” she said under her breath.

Dawnsfirstbloom heard her and said, “Rose.g.f don’t you think you were a bit unfair?”

The guilt came back and Rose coloured, “I suppose so.” She muttered and it would have eased Scorpius’ upset considerably had he seen her slight contrition. Rose didn’t realise she’d spoke out aloud when she added, in the same mutter, “It’s just that there’s something about him which drives me up the wall.”

Dawnsfirstbloom gave her a bemused look, which Rose missed completely, and thought back to what Albus had whispered in her ear on the way back from Hagrid’s.

There was something going on towards the teacher’s end of the house tables. Very soon they realised there were teachers, one per each of the house tables coming down them and handing out the time-tables.

“Hi girls and how are we this bright and beautiful morning?” said Albus as he plonked himself in the seat opposite them. A few Ravenclaw first years went past and chorused a, “See you latter Albus.”

“Catch you in class if not before,” he called back. “Where’s Scorp?” he asked.

Rose couldn’t help blushing again as she replied, bending the truth only slightly, “He chose not to sit with us.”

Albus took in her words and her reaction and her general shiftiness. He saw Dawnsfirstbloom rolling her eyes in exasperation next to her. He narrowed his eyes, “You mean you drove him away, don’t you?” Rose blushed furiously now; Albus could always read her like a book.

“He’s a nice guy Rose; I just wish you’d get around whatever it is that’s stopping you from seeing it.” He said as he stood up to find his mate.

He was interrupted, as was Rose’s reply by the Headmistress, “Not so fast Mr Potter, not so fast.”

“Here you are girls, here are your new timetables.” She said, passing a sheet of parchment to each girl.

“Thanks,” they both said back.

“Both of you have me for Transfiguration first period so don’t be late. I found as I took on more and more duties as Headmistress, I had less and less time to teach, but I was intrigued by you lot so I took on the first years for one last time.” She looked pointedly at Rose as she said it.

“As for you Mr Potter, after consulting with your mischievous friend,” at Albus’ blank look she added, “The Sorting Hat. I believe I have devised a suitable timetable. I have tried to maximise all the subjects that share lessons between two houses for you. I’ve also managed to make sure that whichever house you have the last period with on one day, the first period of the next day will also be with that same house. Hopefully it will minimise your dislocation if you finish a day and then start the next with the same house.”

“Good thinking Miss.” Albus said.

“Yes I know,” she replied, “I thought of it. You should write to your father, if you haven’t already done so, to inform him of your peculiar house placement because I shall have to write to him and you may want to tell him yourself first.”

“Why do you have to write to him Miss?” Albus asked.

“I have to inform him, of course, that the whole school time table revolves around you and that I’ve probably found the next chosen one.”

Everyone within earshot (which included James and Fred who’d just entered the hall) laughed and Albus went bright red. Rose was always pleased to see Albus blush; he looked so much like his father, that it was good to know that there were some Weasley genes in him after all. Their attention was taken away from Albus and a few people jumped when the headmistress brought her hands together in a loud clap. She gave a bark of laughter and said, “Oh, I do believe I’m going to enjoy this final year – so good to jump before one is pushed. See you in Transfiguration, don’t disappoint.” She said looking again at Rose.

McGonagall was walking away when she caught sight of Fred, “See you Friday afternoon for detention Mr Weasley.”

Fred’s mouth dropped open, “But I haven’t done anything.” He protested.

“The operative word, which you seem to have omitted Mr Weasley, is ‘yet’.” And with that she left the hall.

Fred had to laugh with the others. “I told you something had gotten into her. This year is going to be great, James me old china.” He said hugging James one handed around his shoulders, “This year we are going to do some glorious pranking. This year Jamie-boy I think we will be able to get away with anything.”

“You most certainly wont.”

James and Fred nearly jumped out of their skins; no one had seen or heard McGonagall sneak back into the Great Hall.

“I will endeavour to catch any and all students who disturb the peace every single time.” She said, but as she left she gave Fred a massive wink and added, “It doesn’t mean that people shouldn’t try.”

This time Fred made sure she had left the Hall for good before he was able to relax. Rose and Dawnsfirstbloom had already finished brekkie so Rose went with Dawnsfirstbloom back to their dorm so that Dawnsfirstbloom could get the books she needed for the day. Rose had everything she needed for the whole week due to one of her mum’s extendible charms on her schoolbag.

\--o-O-o—

The transfiguration classroom was an impressive old lecture theatre. Rose and Dawnsfirstbloom took up seats at the front and had already pulled out parchment, textbook, quill and ink when the other students stated to file in.

McGonagall came in from a side door and took up a position in front of the class. 

“Good morning class,” she said and paused. Then in a stricter, less pleasant voice added, “When I say ‘good morning class’ I expect the class to be silent; and that includes you Mr McMillan. Surely you don’t want to loose points for your house in your very first lesson do you?”

“Today you begin your journey down the road of Transfiguration – one of the two great branches of the wizarding arts; the other branch being Charms, of course. They are very different disciplines and not just in the results, they also require quite different techniques and mindsets to master them.”

“Today we will begin with changing a matchstick into a pin. The spell is on the board and the wand movement is as such.” McGonagall gave a precise swipe with her wand. She had the class repeat the words several times and then the wand movement several times too.

Seating herself at the front desk she said, “So Mr Macmillan, would you come out and distribute the matchsticks, four to everyone please.” And once everyone had matchsticks in front of them she said, “You all may as well begin.”

Rose raised her wand to start. 

She’d already practiced a few spells before she came to Hogwarts and something this simple was going to be fairly easy; even though she’d never tried this particular spell before. She was about to start faking a few failures, just so she didn’t look too suspiciously competent, when she found McGonagall’s gaze upon her. McGonagall’s steely eyes bore into hers, challenging her, thought Rose. She lowered her wand arm to the proper position, the one she’d had before was clearly wrong, but it was the only way rose knew to deliberately sabotage a spell without being too obvious. Not dropping the headmistresses gaze for one second, Rose readjusted her grip and brought her wand up to the correct position. Only breaking the eye contact to look down at the matchstick before her, Rose swished her wand and said the word once; then again and again until lying on the table were four pins where matchsticks used to be.

McGonagall got up and walked over to Rose, “Well done Miss Weasley, five points to Gryffindor,” and in a voice which only rose could hear added, “for not pretending to be anything other than yourself.” She looked around at the other students and saw a lot of either pointy matchsticks or matchsticks with a flat cap on the end or matchsticks in shape but looking now as if they were made of metal. Dawnsfirstbloom next to Rose was one of the latter; maybe her matchstick was now metallic because she was a goblin and had a natural affinity with metals and minerals? There were a few students who now had pins dotted about the class when McGonagall called their attention back to her.

“Wands down. There are a few of you now with serviceable pins. This is a very simple task in transfiguration, though I can see some of you doubt me on the matter. Can anyone tell me why this type of task should be simple?”

Rose shot up her hand and McGonagall looked down at her, “Yes Miss Weasley.”

“Because the two objects are so similar.” Rose said.

“Well done, another five points to Gryffindor. Yes,” she said picking up a matchstick and one of Rose’s pins, “both have very similar characteristics: they are about the same size; both are long and thin; and they both have a head – the cap of the pin and the phosphorous of the match. This is one of the fundamentals of transfiguration; the closer something is to what you want to change it into, the easier will be the transfiguration.”

“This is for two reasons. The first being that the magic ‘push’ needed is far less. It’s easier to turn a match into a pin than into say, a lizard.” She gave a flick of her wand and the matchstick grew arms a similar flick and it grew legs another and the stick lengthened into a tail; and finally she had to say a spell out loud and preform a complicated wand gesture and the match became scaly and green and ran off her palm, onto Rose’s desk and scurried away. “So if you want a tiger it is always easier to start with a cat than with a banana.”

“The second reason you want to use similar objects in transfiguration, is just that - they look similar. In your mind you can easily picture this matchstick becoming a pin: the end needs to be pointier; it needs to slim down; the head needs to flatten out; it needs to turn from wood into metal. It is this mental image which is so important to Transfiguration - the clearer it is in your mind the easier and better the transformation will be.”

“This is so different to charms, where you want to subtly bend something to your purpose; you want to manipulate what is already there. In Transfiguration, to a certain real extent, you are imposing your will upon the physical world. For instance this same spell will turn a pencil into a pin,” she pulled out a pencil and turned it into a pin, “or a ruler into a pin,” she pulled out a ruler and it soon became a pin, “or even…” she pulled out a banana to titters of laughter and it too became a pin. “Any smallish relatively straight object can be made into a pin with this spell.”

“So to that extent; could you there,” she pointed to some students to Rose’s left, “could you please pass out the small knives on my desk. Everyone, I want you to sharpen the wooden ends of your matchsticks. This will serve two purposes it should make the matchstick more pin-like and make it look more pin-like in your mind. Consequently the transfiguration should become much easier.”

McGonagall lowered her voice from the loud classroom one. “Miss Weasley, it would serve no purpose for you to do that, instead I would like you to transfigure these into pins.” And she pulled some items out from her robe’s pockets and placed them onto the table in front of Rose.

There was a ruler, a pencil, an eraser and a few other items including a coin. Rose began to work, some of them were easy to transfigure (like the pencil), but others were harder – it took Rose several goes before the rubber became a pin.

Around her, Rose could hear the happy sounds of successful students. At one point McGonagall raised her voice and said, “Once you’ve succeeded with a sharpened matchstick, go back to an unsharpened one and try again. Most of you will find that once you have preformed a particular transfiguration spell successfully, it will become easier to use the spell thereafter.”

McGonagall came back to Rose again, who was having trouble changing her last object into a pin. The coin lay untouched upon the table before her and Rose was becoming increasingly frustrated.

“Having trouble Miss Weasley?”

“This coin is just too different; it’s round and flat, about the only good things are that it’s already metal and small.” Rose said testily, then remembered who she was talking to and added a hasty, “Miss.”

McGonagall smiled, “No it’s not Rose it is so similar, especially when you look at it like this.” And McGonagall held up the coin so that Rose could only see its edge. “Like this it’s as if the pin has been flattened and bulged outwards, all you have to do is stretch it.”

Rose’s eyes lit up in understanding and, once McGonagall had put the coin back upon the table, Rose narrowed her eyes, concentrated and did the spell again. The coin changed; like it was being sucked in it became taller and less and less wide until a pin was standing upon its point upon the table. It stood upright for only a sec then fell over to lay upon the table with all the other pins.

“Sometimes Miss Weasley, if a problem appears too complicated it might be that you are looking at it incorrectly.”

The bell rang and McGonagall dismissed the class, but she held Rose back with a “Miss Weasley.” There was no-one else left in the classroom when the elderly Professor said, “Rose, don’t ever pretend to be anything else but your best. You are not the first to have practiced before you came to school.”

Rose interrupted, “I hadn’t ever done this one before, Miss. This was my first time with this spell.”

“I thought so,” McGonagall replied, “but that’s not the point. Always strive to better yourself; you will encounter enough problems in your way that you don’t need to add ones of your own devising. I expect great things from you Miss Weasley.”

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**

**So McGonagall as a teacher. It is my opinion that, as good as she was she would have improved somewhat over the intervening nineteen years – everyone should always get better at whatever job they do. I hope my portrayal of it works.**

**The book Rose is reading is real - Troubletwisters by Garth Nix and Sean Williams. I recommend it, as I would any of Garth Nix's books.**

**Thank you to my wonderful beta, Carla aka Bitersweetflames, who again did a wonderful job fixing my tenses and giving me lots of wonderful comments. I’ve found, to keep her happy I have to put Albus in each chapter, or at last reference him; I feel that I may be disappointing her in up-coming chapters.**

**Remember all reviews will always be responded to.**

****


	9. Other Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroine participates in her other classes.
> 
> Binns 'as read by' is not so bad; how to master charms, the Rose Weasley way; yes Scorpius, pride does come before a fall; the best class ever in the history of schooling ever.
> 
> _“Yes, sir. I can offer no excuse. Miss Weasley obviously thought it desirable to bring me to the attention of every other student in Hogwarts."_

**Note: If I was writing about Roslyn and Dawnsfirstbloom being taught Charms by Professor Fitzhugh and Materials Fabrication by Professor Dropforged - then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec, Dawnsfirstbloom and Dropforged are mine, all mine BWHA HA HA!**

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

The main banner and all chapter images have been painted by myself.

* * *

**Chapter 9 Other lessons**

 

Rose found that she liked all of her lessons and all her teachers as well.

Um, maybe not Binns, but she had a trick up her sleeve there. She had the textbook, of course, but she also had her mother’s notes. 

Her mother had taken meticulous notes back in her school days and had kept them. They were good enough that she had them bound into books and had presented them to Rose as a present before she had left for Hogwarts. 

All of the old subjects were covered, but mostly Rose found that it didn’t matter. Different teachers taught their subjects in very different ways so they weren’t a substitute for taking the notes of the actual classes she went to. Even McGonagall was different from what she had been back in her Mother’s day; she had kept improving as a teacher for the past nineteen years. So Rose found that she ended up using her mum’s notes as a sort of second textbook. 

Except for History of Magic.

History of Magic had exactly the same teacher and, after a bit of experimentation and comparison on Rose’s part, she found that he taught it exactly the same way, almost word for word, as he had done nineteen years in the past; and she was sure it was the same as the nineteen years before that, and so on.

So after the first few classes, where Rose checked that the lessons were exactly the same, she didn’t bother with History of Magic anymore. Oh she still went, but she had a new routine. Firstly, she’d pull out her mum’s notes. Secondly, make sure he wasn’t writing something down that wasn’t in her mum’s notes (he never did). Then, thirdly, she would do her homework from other subjects.

She would catch up on the notes when she went jogging with a Rose Reader stuck into them. Unsurprisingly enough, when read in her voice and not Binns’ dull monotone, with a bit of expression thrown in, the subject was quite tolerable and even exciting in parts.

So, apart from Binns there was no teacher she disliked. No one like how Snape had been for her parents and, particularly, for Uncle Harry. Rose had been there when her Uncle had explained it all to Albus, when he had asked about his middle name. Uncle Harry had told them both how horrible Snape had been to him at school and the two kids had been outraged. 

But Uncle Harry had told them why Snape had had to do it. How Snape had had to pretend to hate him even though everything he was doing was for Harry’s benefit. Snape could concentrate on Harry’s similarities to his father and hate them - because James and Severus had fought like cats and dogs whilst they were at school – meanwhile loving that he was Lily’s son. Because both Snape and Dumbledore knew that a certain Dark Lord would come back, and when he did, Severus Snape would have had to go back to him and spy on him for Dumbledore and pass the scrutiny of the Dark Lord’s Legilimency. And the easiest way to have done so was to hide the lie within truth – he’d had to conceal that he was protecting Lily’s son underneath his hatred for James’ son. Ugh, how awful and complicated and tragic. Consequently, Snape had had to make everyone’s life a misery.

Nothing and no-one like that for Rose though. 

There was McGonagall, who was good and kept pushing her to do better.

Uncle Neville and his plants; it was strange to see their funny old (honorary) uncle in his element and now competent and able. He tended to be a bit of an old duffer in Rose’s experience, but seeing him amongst his plants, he was a different man.

Slughorn she’d met a few times at Uncle Harry’s parties, and, because she was the ‘Daughter of Hermione Granger’ , he treated her like she was royalty.

There were only two subjects that were different.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

The first was Charms with Professor Flitwick.

She had a rocky start with the subject and it was only because she had taken McGonagall’s words to heart. It had seemed to make so much sense: Transfiguration was Gryffindor, Charms was Slytherin. Maybe those weren’t her exact words, but it was how Rose chose to remember and interpret them. It did put into words how Rose basically thought of them anyway. In Transfiguration, you had to be bold and force your will upon nature, but in Charms you had to be sneaky and work out how to cajole nature into doing what you wanted.

She’d had a fruitless first lesson when she couldn’t get the hang of the simple Wingardium Leviosa - one of the easiest spells and one of the first to be taught to First years, probably since the beginning of Hogwarts.

Why couldn’t she master it?

She could already charm the Rose Readers, couldn’t she? And could already do some other way more advanced stuff (third or fourth year stuff at least). So why couldn’t she do this? The end of the lesson had left her frustrated and upset, as little else had.

Further provocation came on the evening after the lesson in the form of Scorpius bloody Malfoy. 

“I heard you had some difficulties in Charms today, Miss Weasley. I do wish you all the best for your next class and I’m sure if you practice diligently you’ll be able to master it some day.” Without a laugh, without a sneer, without any indication that he was making fun of her, he left her and swaggered over to the Slytherin table.

Albus came in almost straight away after Scorpius had left and had to laugh at Rose’s sour expression. “Don’t be so grumpy, Rose. It can’t be that bad?” he said.

She stopped Albus from joining the Slytherins and had asked how Malfoy had done in his first Charms class and the answer didn’t suit her at all. 

“Oh, he was great, not only was he the first to float his feather, by the end of the lesson he had most of the contents of his pencil case floating above his desk.”

She let him go and stomped over to her table and bolted down her food without talking to anyone and then whisked back up to her dorm. Once there, she jumped into bed and, pulling the curtains shut, she cast a silencing charm upon them. How could she do that and not master the much simpler levitation charm?

So she started to practice.

… and practice and practice and practice.

She heard her dorm-mates come in at some time but she ignored them and they couldn’t hear her because of her charm.

It was much, much later, when her frustration was getting too much to bear and she was just about to give up, that she had her breakthrough. She’d already slammed her wand down on the counterpane as she thought to herself, _‘Bloody Malfoy, I don’t care what he thinks.’_

The words jarred something in her mind, some stray thought came adrift and it buzzed around in her head. It also jogged her memory about what McGonagall had said about the difference between Transfiguration and Charms.

She sat back up slowly, gingerly picking up her wand and being extra slow and steady as though if she moved too fast it might chase the idea away.

_Think._

_How I think._

_Think like a Slytherin._

_Think like Malfoy._

Ok, so how would she go about cajoling the feather up? Convince it to ignore gravity or, better yet, pretend that gravity went the opposite way.

She pointed her wand at the feather and thought, _‘how light you are, how very light and fluffy, you don’t want to be just sitting there, you want to be floating around the room.’_ She said the spell and the feather slowly rose off the bed.

She did the spell again and again and again each time differing the way she thought about it and each different way would produce different results. 

If she thought _‘ignore gravity’_ then the feather would hover. It wouldn’t rise off the bed by itself because that wasn’t ‘ignoring gravity’ that was ‘opposing gravity’ 

When she’d first tried the ‘ignore gravity thinking’ she thought she hadn’t succeeded until a stray bit of wind had blown it off the bed and it had just stayed in mid air. So she had tried it again – “Wingardium Leviosa” still thinking _‘ignore gravity’_ – then she had picked the feather off the bed and released it at head height and it had stayed there.

If she tried cajoling the feather up as she said the spell - thinking, _‘come on little feather, you know you want to float, come on, just float for me’_ \- then the feather would slowly rise and drift about on the tiniest of breezes.

If it was _‘oppose gravity’_ that she thought as she performed the spell, the feather would quiver on the bed and fall upwards to the ceiling.

Rose got to sleep soon afterwards and slept the sleep of the just.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

When she woke the next morning she woke with an idea; a malicious, evil sort of idea and it all revolved around a particular spell; a charm as it happened and that would be the sweetest justice of all.

 

She looked the spell up and practiced it in secret for the rest of the week, ignoring Malfoy all that time. She waited for the day of her next Charms lesson because she knew that Malfoy wouldn’t leave well enough alone.

 

Sure enough at breakfast, he said in passing, “Charms today, Miss Weasley, I do so hope that you perform better this time around.” He turned and began to saunter away.  
Rose whipped out her wand.

Scorpius heard her perform the spell behind him and the change it wrought caught his attention almost immediately. He looked down at himself, at his robes, and sighed. “Of course. You mastered how to do Charms and it only took you what, a week?”

His robes were now bright pink.

He sat down at his table to gales of laughter, especially from his best friend, who slapped him on the back. Albus said something, which Rose didn’t hear and made everyone laugh even more.

Scorpius bore it all with stoicism and even stood up and took a little bow.

Of course, it was just as a teacher walked by and remarked, “Out of uniform, Mr Malfoy?”

“Yes, sir. I can offer no excuse. Miss Weasley obviously thought it desirable to bring me to the attention of every other student in Hogwarts. I bow to her apparently superior sense of style; after all, sir, Pink is the new black.”

Rose face burned and she couldn’t help feeling that some of the shine was taken from her victory.

She did cheer up later, though, because it took weeks for the colour to fade back to its natural black.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

The other lesson that she wasn’t prepared for she _literally_ wasn’t prepared for because neither of her parents had done it when they had gone to school. It hadn’t existed back then; it was one of the new subjects brought in when goblins were allowed to come to Hogwarts. Apparently, it was the subject that could eventually allow you to be able to make goblin made stuff.

There was no textbook for it even, so all Rose really knew about it was that it was called ‘The Fundamentals of Material Technology and Fabrication’ and it was taught by a goblin.

“Hello, everyone,” he said once they were all seated and quiet, “my name is Dropforged and welcome to the Fundamentals of Materials Technology and Fabrication. Which is precisely the last time I’m going to call it that all year. From now on you and I and everyone else will call these the Making lessons. I didn’t want to call it that ridiculously long title, but I was overruled by the school board who said it couldn’t be called Making Stuff.”

“So, welcome to Making Stuff.”

“And it is the last time I have to say it, too, until next year because I think this is the last lot of you first years I’ve seen. Yes, yes, it is because I had Slytherins on Monday and also Ravenclaws and yesterday it was Hufflepuff, so yes this is the last lot of first years. And this is obviously where the first year goblin has been hiding. Excuse me for a moment class, but I have a bit of goblin business to attend to.”

He came round from the back of the Teacher’s desk with a hop, and it then became obvious that he must have been standing on something. He stayed at the front of the class but was now directly in front of Dawnsfirstbloom. He started to speak in goblin and Rose caught a few words out of it that Dawnsfirstbloom had managed to teach her.

Dawnsfirstbloom stood up out of her chair and Rose could tell that he’d said something which had surprised her. Dawnsfirstbloom said something back to him, also in goblin, and Rose could pick out Dawnsfirstbloom’s name and tribe and clan amongst the Gobbledegook. She bowed deeply to him and he bowed back at her.

“Thank you, class, for your indulgence.” He went back round behind his desk and clambered up on top of whatever he’d been standing on before. “That’s all the goblin formalities over with. So, welcome to the class Dawnsfirstbloom I think you’ll enjoy it; in fact, I’m sure everyone will love this subject. I’ve heard time and time again, from older students and Alumni that this class, Basic Making stuff, was one of their favourite classes of all. There could be many reasons for this, but I believe that the greatest contributing factor to people’s enjoyment of this class is that, unlike every other course in the entire school, it has no homework.”

 

The kids had been unsure of how to take their first goblin teacher before the class. Some of them had had very little experience with goblins at all, but Dropforged’s attitude had relaxed most of them. Enough so that when he had told them that there’d be no homework they had all cheered.

“That always makes you kids happy for some reason. I don’t know why?” he added with a sly smirk.

He waited for the class to quieten down before he continued, “Later on in Making Stuff (Second Year), Advanced Making Stuff (Third and Fourth Years) and Really Complicated and Tricky Making Stuff (Fifth Year) there will be homework and assignments and all that.”

 

“There is a Sixth and Seventh year course available, but it is very unlikely that any of you will be invited to do it. So far in the course of my teaching here I have held those classes twice – once to a class of one and one special year to a class of two. In that course you will be taught how to make goblin made stuff. Or what they are now being called ‘soul items’. It is not for everyone and even if you really wish to do it, if you are incapable you simply cannot. Please don’t get your hopes up because the likelihood of any of you being able to make soul items is very slim.”

“So in Basic Making Stuff, everything you do will be in class; that is, unless you actually want to do homework.” He looked around the class at some of the wary expressions which were beginning to form. He held up his hands placatingly. “No, I’m not trying to go back on my word. No one has to do any extra work outside of class, but you can if you want to. And it’s not some sort of sneaky way to get you doing homework – where those who do homework of their own accord will get better grades and place higher, nothing like that.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot to say, that a lack of homework might not be the only reason people love this course. You tell me - is it better that this course has no homework or is it better that there is no exam at the end of the year?” he asked with a grin on his face.

The class erupted into cheering again, which dwarfed the volume of the first.

There was a ‘Hell Yeah!’ from the back of the classroom. Dropforged grinned as he looked to see who’d spoken as the rest of the class laughed.

“Is that … are you Mr Thomas by any chance?”

The boy, looking worried that he had been singled out, said, “Yes, Sir.”

“I know your father. You wouldn’t, by any chance, have inherited any of his talent, have you?”

“Um, I can draw OK, Sir,” he said shyly.

“Well, I’ll be looking forward to what you can accomplish later on in the year, Mr Thomas.

“Anyway, back on track. So no exams and no homework and no grades; a big thumbs up all around, yes? So what’s the catch?”

He looked around at the faces of the students sat behind the desks in front of him. He noted the expresions on the faces of the few, he assumed, cleverer ones – there were still some wondering what the ‘catch’ was.

“Well in lessons I expect you to pay attention, try your hardest and work as hard as you possibly can. And why will you? Because you’ll want to. We have so much to cover in this course; so many different ways to make stuff – woodwork, metalwork, leatherwork, sewing, pottery; I could go on and on.”

“All the projects I have planned for you, we should be able to finish in class if you work consistently. But if you don’t, you don’t. You’ll end up with unfinished stuff and you’ll only be cheating yourself. It won’t affect me; it won’t affect your classmates; no one but yourself.”

He continued, “To save you all some anguish though, not everyone will finish everything. We have to cover so many materials and techniques – some of these you will love and some you will hate. You might hate leatherwork, for instance, and happily leave whatever you start unfinished, but you might love woodwork and come in after classes, or at lunchtimes or weekends to complete your project. Not everything is for everyone and there will be no recriminations from me if you leave a project, that requires a technique you hate, unfinished. But I guarantee you this, everyone will leave this course with something, even if it’s only one technique, that you love and you will do it with pleasure for the rest of your life.”

Rose looked around and saw that he had everyone’s attention, it was good to see, she thought, everyone genuinely engaged in a class. She could see the truth of Dropforged’s words, there was no wonder to her why a lot of students would look back on these lessons with fondness.

 

“This is the purpose of this year, to see what you like to do, to make, and to see what you have a talent at. Then, in Second Year you will do what you liked in First Year and what you found you had a talent for. So, if you loved metalwork you do more of that and if you hated using a needle and thread you never have to touch them again. Then, in later years, if you take Making Stuff as one of your electives, then you could be making magic swords, or brooms, or wands or … the most amazing things – it’s up to you.

“It brings up another point – I consider all fabrication techniques to be gender neutral. I’ve had boys who loved sewing and girls who forged steel, so don’t be hampered by outdated stereotypes.”

 

“And the last thing I have to say before we start- disturbing and sidetracking other students will not be tolerated. You can talk and hopefully have fun here, but because we have to work reasonably hard in class, deliberately hindering any other student in the completion of their work will be dealt with harshly. You will be chucked out of the course and banned from ever returning.”

“So why do we make stuff? You will all be able to use magic, and fairly proficiently, by the time you leave school; why not employ a charm to make what you want or transfigure something into what you need?

“You,” he looked down at a piece of parchment on the table in front of him, “Miss Finnegan. Would you wear a dress that was made by magic?”

“No, Sir.”

“Why not?”

“I wouldn’t trust it.”

“Alright, fair enough, but what if magic were only used to cut the cloth used to make the dress? What if it was a needle and thread that was used to stitch the cloth together, but the needle was charmed to sew by itself? Would you trust the garment then, Miss Finnegan?”

“I suppose so, Sir.”

“As would I, as would most of you. So we have established that it is not magic, as such, but the way that it is employed in making something that matters. For instance, if these robes of mine,” he held out his arms, bringing attention to his black robes, “were held together with only a sticking charm, I wouldn’t expect them to last till the end of the lesson, let alone the end of the day.

“So we will employ magic ourselves, but we shall do so as if it was a tool and not some ‘magic solution’. To make something that we know will truly last, we must do so with our own hands, employing what tools are needed for the task.”

“OK, so what can you all do? What skills do any of you possess?”

And the rest of the time was filled with finding out what each of them could do. Almost everyone could do something. One of the boys had done some woodwork with his father. Ayesha had made jewellery with her mum. A few of them were OK at drawing (Rose was one of them) and Professor Dropforged was impressed when Rose said she could sew and knit and crochet.

Towards the end of the class there was a question about grades if there were no homework or exams. “It’s pretty easy,” Dropforged replied, “everybody who comes along and at least gives it a go gets an Acceptable. It’s very hard to get a Poor, but a few have over the years, who just didn’t want to do anything or be involved. The only Trolls given out are for those who are asked to leave the course. Mostly though, if you make one thing, one thing you are proud of, then you get an E; an Exceeds expectations. That’s for one thing, if you do more – and there is every opportunity to make more. I’d say if you had a go and completed every task, then you’ll have about twenty projects made by the end of the year, but that’s unlikely; most of you will find that there are just some methods of fabrication, ugh, making stuff I mean, that you won’t like, so you will abandon those projects in favour of finishing off some of the ones you enjoyed more. Sorry, I got off the track and I said that before didn’t I? I was saying that if you finish more than one project, and you are happy with the result – again I’d say if you were proud of them – then you get an Outstanding. This course, Basic Making Stuff, in the years I’ve been doing it, has the highest number of O’s and E’s of any subject in the school.”

 

As he waved them out of the class at the end of the lesson, standing as he was beside the teacher’s desk, he told them that they were all going to make paper in their next lesson. Just as he began to dismiss them, all his robes split at the seams and fell off.

* * *

**  
The betaing kudos go once again to Carla of the Bittersweetflames, who did an amazing job – well, in-between watching the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice, that is.**

**Also a big thank you goes out to CassiePotter, Avanell 2, Bittersweetflames (though she’s almost contractualy obliged to) and more recently Pixilanin – all of whom have reviewed each and every chapter, most of them with lovely long and insightful reviews.**

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	10. Quidditch Tryouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our main heroine and her cousin try out for a place on the Quidditch team.
> 
> Not only the Gryffindors are interested in the Gryffindor try-outs: the 'reward' for being a show off: good advice is imparted for any leader: not everyone can make the team: the final team is selected, but it's not good news for all.
> 
>  
> 
> _In a voice that didn’t carry beyond them Olivia said, “Weasley, you’re this **** close to being kicked off the team and you’re not even on it yet.”_

**Note: If I was writing about Roslyn and Albert trying out for Quidditch under Olivia Wood then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec, Dawnsfirstbloom and Olivia Wood are mine, all mine BWHA HA HA!**

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

The main banner and all chapter images have been painted by myself.

* * *

 

Chapter 10 : Quidditch Tryouts.

 

Quidditch was what Rose had been looking forward to all of her first week.

James had gotten onto the Gryffindor captain within a few days of coming to school and had impressed upon her the value of Albus. Since he wasn’t solely a Gryffindor, they should get in early and sign him up for their team. Consequently, the first tryouts were booked out by Gryffindor and were to be held on the second weekend of school. Rose was beside herself with excitement and couldn’t stop going on about it to Dawnsfirstbloom. 

“… I normally play seeker - but Albus is really good too - but I don’t know if he’ll play for Gryffindor or someone else; like the slimy Slytherins – but then, I don’t know if Gryffindor already has a seeker – I can play chaser if I have to…”

And so on, Dawnsfirstbloom put up with it stoically until it got too much. Sometime towards the end of the week, she stopped Rose mid-sentence by saying, “Rose, I’ve never seen a game of Quidditch in my life – I didn’t even know it existed till a few months ago. ‘ell, I barely knew that there were such things as flying broomsticks till I was seven or eight. So I’ll come down and watch your tryout of course, but …” and she shrugged her shoulders.

It only put a slight dampener on Rose’s enthusiasm and it all returned in spades when Saturday came around. She donned her Quidditch gear – a Woollongong Warriors strip, the team she barracked for – grabbed her broom and went down to the pitch with all the rest. There had been a flurry of owls over the last week as the first years had frantically written home asking for their brooms to be sent to school.

Rose collected Albus on the way and taunted him with, “So dear cousin, what position will you try out for once I become the new Gryffindor seeker?” He laughed but didn’t rise to the bait because he knew it was just her way of dealing with the fact that she knew he was better than her.

When they got there, the stands were rather fuller than Rose had expected them to be, _“and what’s more,”_ she thought, _“they aren’t all Gryffindors.”_

She was right, there were a few Gryffindor observers in the stands – Rose waved to Dawnsfirstbloom – but most of the Gryffindors who were there were down on the pitch waiting to try out. Most of the kids in the stands were from the other houses. The biggest group were Slytherins, but there was a sizable group from Ravenclaw and a smaller one from Hufflepuff. 

Rose saw James and went over to him. “Hey James, what’s with all the gawkers?”

He gave her a disgusted look and shook his head, “I think the word is out about my little bro over there,” gesturing past Rose with his thumb. Rose couldn’t help but glance where James was pointing, to see Albus beginning to stretch and limber up, with his broom propped up against a nearby bench.

She sighed and looked back to James, “Blast!”

“I know.” James replied with a rueful expression.

Rose left him to join Albus and begin to limber up herself. As she approached her cousin a little voice inside her said, _‘without him on the team…’_ She shook it off, though, it was mean spirited to even think that way, _‘favourite cousin, remember.’_ She dropped her broom beside his and began to stretch.

The other Gryffindor hopefuls were beginning to arrive and Rose was interested to see what they were like. In the week that had just passed, she’d learnt from James that the old seeker had left the school, so she didn’t have to worry about trying to oust an incumbent. The students were coming onto the pitch in dribs and drabs; very few began to warm up like she and Albus were doing. Rose was looking for potential seekers: there was one, maybe two, that girl could be one. Quite a crowd was beginning to gather. There were another couple of first years – a boy Rose didn’t know the name of and the Thomas boy – a whole bunch from second and third years that outnumbered (just) the combined hopefuls from the rest of the years put together.

Rose excluded from the hopefuls the remnants of the previous team. She knew who they were when James made a bee-line to the captain, Olivia Wood (James had pointed her out to Rose on Tuesday). She had sandy blonde hair, cut relatively short and had a fairly masculine cast to her features. She wasn’t unattractive, but she had a thick-set muscular build and was certainly going to follow in the footsteps of her father and have some sort of professional career in Quidditch; at least that’s what James said of her. There was a hulking guy next to her - not that Olivia was short, but the guy was tall with really broad shoulders – and he simply screamed ‘Beater’. He had dark, almost black hair in a shaggy mane about his head. His features were all sharp: a hatchet like nose, high pronounced cheekbones, a pointy chin and a square jaw. There was a smallish girl next to James, who Rose would have thought might be a seeker except she knew otherwise; she must have been the other chaser left on the team with James. Rose hardly caught sight of her, surrounded as she was by the others; about the only thing she caught of her was brown hair caught up in a ponytail. The relaxed way they all hung around together, you knew they must be a close team and it only inflamed Rose’s desire to join the team herself.

Olivia Wood called them all to order. “OK, Hi there everyone and thanks for coming down. As you can see I have with me four members of the previous team. They will be trying out, just like the rest of you, but because I’ve seen them play and I already know how good they are, it will take a lot for one of you to displace any of them. Even so, that still means I need three new players, minimum. So that means that one of you will be our new beater; one of you will be our new chaser and one of you will be our seeker.”

Rose and Albus looked at each other with huge grins plastered on their faces.

“First off, let’s see if you can fly. I’ll split you up into years, but I can see that there are a lot of second and third years, so I’ll lump first and fourth together, second and fifth, and third, um you can go on your own there are so many of you, and lastly sixth and seventh together. What I want you all to do in your assigned groups, is to fly a lap around the oval from those goal posts,” pointing to the nearest ones, “then when you get back, go straight up the field to the other goal posts again and back. So do you all get it, a circle around the oval, then straight up and back; Yes?

“OK first and fourth years you can go first.”

They grabbed their brooms and moved off towards the goalposts with the rest of the hopefuls. Albus was just a bit ahead of her and, just as he brought his broom up, ready to mount, Rose stopped him with a, “hey, Albus?” 

He looked at her as she ambled closer, only one hand holding her broom, “Yeah, what?”

Just as she drew level she screamed out, “race ya,” grabbed her broom with two hands and sped off, so hasty was her departure she wasn’t seated properly and had to adjust herself on the fly.

Albus didn’t waste any breath on a retort, he just gripped his own broom with both hands and sped after her. The first thing he caught up to was her laughter, but that soon stopped as she hunkered down over her broom and concentrated on coaxing as much speed out of it as possible. They both sped around the sweeping curves of the oval and when they got back to the start they were still about the same distance apart. The rest of the group had just made the far goalposts, most were not flying nearly as fast as Rose and Albus were; some because they just didn't want to, some from a lack of ability.

Rose sped towards the goalposts, where she had to make a tight turn before heading straight back up the field. To the onlookers it must have seemed like she left it too late. They gasped and some cried out as she threw herself into the turn so fast, whipping the tail around so quickly that she appeared to overbalance. The cries quickly turned to ohhs and ahhs of appreciation as they realised she’d meant to. She flew for a moment completely upside down as she changed to the new bearing; twisting herself to vertical as she raced up the field. The crowd didn’t have long to wait before they were similarly entertained as a few moments later, Albus repeated the move almost exactly, this time to applause.

At the other end of the field, when she had to turn at the goalposts, was where Rose made her mistake. She went through the goalposts and the narrowness of the gap forced her to overshoot slightly before she could make her turn. She whipped the tail of the broom around after she had cleared the posts, a bit slower than last time due to the 360 degree nature of the turn. It was still textbook perfect though and drew some cheers from the crowd, but as she started to speed forward, she was confronted with Albus coming straight at her. She couldn’t start forward because he was in her way and she had to reign in her forward momentum.

He came to an abrupt halt as he got to the goal posts. So quickly did he stop that the tail of the broom came up and it appeared that he was going to be flipped forward off his broom. The audience sure thought so, from their cries of dismay, but Rose knew better. It was a turn that Albus had perfected, one she’d never quite managed herself. It was a difficult turn to accomplish, due to the fact that if you got it wrong you either were flipped off the front of the broom or, more likely, flew straight into the ground before you could get the broom fully turned around.

Rose only caught a glimpse of his cheeky grin, looking right at her, before he had sped off (upside down) back the way he’d come. There was a massive cheer from the onlookers as he righted himself.

Rose was close behind and even gaining on him, but she’d lost precious seconds and was clearly not going to beat him now. Albus sped past the goals and pumped his fist into the air to the applause as he wheeled around and hopped off his broom. He was playing up to the crowd, taking bows and blowing kisses as Rose came up behind him.

She’d sped through the goal posts, sped over to Albus and as she approached the ground she didn’t even bother dismounting – she just started running as soon as her feet touched the ground, letting the broom fly out from between her legs (she knew it would stop within a meter or so due to the broom’s safety breaking charm). She bellowed out, “Albus Potter you bloody cheat,” and as she got to him she began to beat him about the head and shoulders. “You were supposed to go past the goal posts.” Slap, slap; belt, belt.

Due to their martial arts training Albus was more than capable of fending off most of the blows Rose struck, but he missed a few because he was laughing so hard. “She only said, ‘too the posts,’ not through.”

Rose ignored this because he was probably right and kept on raining blows upon his person because it wasn’t the chief of her gripes. “But worst of all you blocked me deliberately!”

He had no answer to that – it was true enough – so he just kept trying to fend off her blows and laughed along with the rest of the crowd. It started to impinge upon her consciousness that lots of people were laughing and it began to erode her anger. She was brought to a stop when a loud, “THAT’S ENOUGH,” cut through the combined noise of the crowd.

Everyone looked around to see Olivia Wood with her wand to her throat.

“Amusing as that performance may be, we are here for the Quidditch tryouts. I want the next group, the second and fifth years, to do the same thing; except this time NO RACING and NO OUTRAGEOUS STUNTS.”

Albus said a contrite, “sorry Captain.”

Rose grumbled a bit, “it wasn’t really dangerous; we practiced those moves at home all the time.”

If Olivia heard the grumbles she didn’t react. “Before you fly off, I just overheard something that reminded me of something I meant to say before. Don’t leave if you want to try out for keeper, just because of me, I want to have some reserves up my sleeves. I want a spare keeper, a spare seeker, two spare beaters and at least two spare chasers. With detentions and injuries, I’ve seen it too many times that you have to put in a last minute player who hasn’t been training with the team and what happens? We lose because the team doesn’t work right. So I want spares, good to go, who know how the team works. OK? 

“Ok then, the next lot off you go and no dangerous stunts.”

Rose was over by the stands, having rescued her broom and getting a drink of water. In the stands behind her she could hear one of the older students saying, “You know that reserve thing? That’s a bloody good idea, why didn’t we think of that? We’re Ravenclaws, we’re supposed to be the smart ones.”

Rose’s attention was snapped back to the field when a, “Weasley,” was barked out at her by an approaching Olivia Wood. “Mind coming with me for a bit.” More of a statement than a question as she went past Rose only to come to a stop up the field where she could observe the group flying around the oval. There were no other students around her when Rose came up to Olivia and she said, “You wanted to see me?”

Olivia turned around to Rose with a big smile on her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes. What she said left Rose in no doubt about her emotional state – the smile was just for show, just in case anyone was watching. In a voice that didn’t carry beyond them Olivia said, “Weasley, you’re this fucking close to being kicked off the team and you’re not even on it yet.”

Someone called out for Olivia; she nodded back and shouted out, “coming.”

Before she left, she added, returning to that previous lower volume and still with that same, almost forced smile upon her face. “If you ever make captain, you might allow backchat, but I don’t. If I say to do something or not to do something, I don’t want moaning, I don’t want grumbling and I don’t want backchat; got that Weasley.” Without waiting for a reply she went off and left a rather subdued Rose behind her.

When she got back to Albus, he asked her what Wood wanted. Rose just blushed and brushed him off with a, “just stuff.”

They watched the other years fly around and only a couple failed because they couldn’t fly.

“OK,” said Wood, “most of you can fly, even if it’s only sort of. If you’re trying out for keeper then some of the poorer flyers may be OK, but if you want to be a chaser or seeker, like those two show-offs,” She pointed at Rose (who went red) and Albus (who took bows), “then you will have to fly very well.”

“OK, for now though, please split into groups. If you want to try out for chaser, over there,” she pointed to where James was standing and he waved, “beaters over there, keepers come over to me and I’ll have any seekers down with those two.”

Once the groups had been settled, Olivia cast her gaze over them all. “OK, since there are only a few of you I think we’ll do the keepers first.” She lowered her voice and addressed the few students stood around her. “OK, just to start off with, and just so you don’t get the wrong idea, I hope that none of you will get to play this year, because that will mean that I will have died. ‘Cause I swear to you all, that nothing short of death itself will keep me off this pitch this year. But, just in case of that unhappy circumstance, it wouldn’t hurt to have a spare. So I’ll get James … hey James! Over here, and Kylie too. I’ll get James and Kylie here to shoot some shots at goal and we’ll see how you do.”

Everyone else either flopped down on the grass where they were (if they were out of the way) or took up seats in the stands.

The first guy was good and saved five out of the six shots that James and Kylie took it in turns to shoot (Kylie managed to get her second shot passed him). The second and third hopefuls weren’t really that good, managing to only save three goals between them. The fourth, though, was as good as the first even though she let in two goals – James got a lucky one in and faked her out on another. Wood called them all down and politely dismissed the two who just were not up to it. “OK then, you two were great. I can’t pick between you, so we’re going to have another go, but this time, James and Kylie are going to work together, passing the quaffle, flying up the pitch and doing their best to get it past each of you, OK?”

This time the score against both of the keepers was the same – they both let in four goals and saved two. James and Kylie were so good together and faked out the poor, inexperienced keepers more than once. When they flew down to gather around Olivia once more she had her hands on her hips and was regarding them both; her mouth quirked up at one side and shaking her head slightly. “I just can’t decide, you are both really good. You’ve got your individual strengths and weaknesses, but in a few years time…”

She seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. “Look, if you both want to – knowing what I said earlier, that you probably won’t get to play – but if you want to, you can both be reserves?”

They were both fairly solidly built kids, but the boy had a more taciturn disposition. He looked to the girl inquisitively and at her expression nodded once. She on the other hand nodded enthusiastically back at Olivia, saying, “Yes. Yes, thank you. Yes please.”

Wood raised her voice again. “OK, we now have two reserve keepers who are…” she gestured at the girl, who piped up and said, “Lacient Fletcher”.

Wood turned to the boy saying, “And…”

He replied in a deep voice, “Dominic Wintergreen.”

“OK. And from how well they worked together, James and Kylie will definitely be returning to the team as two of our chasers.”

There was a cheer of acclimation. Lacient looked pleased, you couldn’t tell with Dominic and both James and Kylie took bows. Seeing Kylie next to James and also how she acted, Rose thought that she was very much a sort of female version of James.

One voice came from the crowd. “Hey how about you, we didn’t get to see you proving your skills.” Rose craned her neck to see who said it, as were a lot of people, and she thought it came from an older boy; a third or fourth year by the little she saw of him.

James and Kylie got angry, but before either of them could say anything the burly beater from last year’s team barked out, “Shut it runt. You don’t talk to the Captain like that.”

The one who’d spoken out was cowered, but not sufficiently to stop him from mumbling, “She’s not my Captain yet.”

Those who knew her saw the look on Olivia’s face which they knew meant that if she had anything to do with it, he’d never be on any team of hers. But she still held up a hand to forestall anything else. “I’ll forgive his rudeness,” she said, “because he does have a point. But for everyone’s information there are two good reasons why I won’t be trying out today. The first and best reason is that I’m the Captain and as such I get to play – it’s as simple as that. I’m a keeper, there’s one spot for a keeper, and I’m it.

“Secondly, I know these two; I’ve trained with them and played with them on last year’s team. I know their strengths and I know their weaknesses, but if you think I’m going to use that knowledge against them when there are Slytherins and Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs in the stands, then you’re just plain stupid. And I’d have to use their weaknesses against them because they are that good – didn’t you just see that? And even if I did, I’d be happy if I saved more than half of any goals they made a serious attempt at.”

James said, “Stop it captain, you’re making us blush.”

Olivia’s outburst shut the boy up. “So if any of you, anyone else, has any questions about the way I plan to run this team, then please speak up now.” When no one said anything she added, “I mean it, now is the time. Well, today at least; if you have any questions and don’t want to say them in front of everyone then please feel free to approach me later.

“OK, we’ll do chasers next, since there’s so many of you.” She proceeded to outline the selection process: first off they’d split into groups and fly in formation, passing the quaffle to each other; then those who passed that stage would have a go at goal shooting. 

As they split into groups, Rose went over to get her stuff together and get another drink of water from her bag. She was sort of hidden from the notice of Olivia, though she wasn’t deliberately trying to hide. But she realised that Wood had no idea that she was there when she called someone over to herself. “Hi what’s your name?”

“Um Bryn Johnson, Miss.”

Olivia laughed, “You don’t have to call me Miss, I’m not a bloody teacher. I’m Captain, if you’re on the team and we’re playing or training, but other than that I answer to Wood or Olivia.” She turned serious and the smile was gone from her countenance, “look, I have to be honest with you, but I saw your flying earlier and I almost flunked you out then. I thought if you were trying for keeper you might, only just, be acceptable, but your flying skills are just not up to being a chaser.”

Bryn’s whole demeanour changed; his shoulders slumped and he looked really down. Olivia couldn’t help but notice and gave him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder. “Hey, I’m sorry but … why do you want to play Quidditch anyway? It looked like that was your first time up on a broom.”

Bryn muttered, “Second.”

“What!” Olivia exclaimed, “then why on earth do you want to play Quidditch?”

His face lit up as he brought his gaze up to meet Olivia’s and he became more and more animated the more he said. “I’ve always loved Quidditch. I grew up in Puddlemere, right next to the stadium. That’s how my mum first knew I had magical talent, because I could see the stadium when the other kids at school couldn’t. Since I was, oh, really young, I’ve watched them train and on weekends, I sneak into the stadium to watch them play. It’s just … I’ve always wanted to play it one day.”

“So why haven’t you ever been on a broom before?”

He coloured a bit, “Um, you see my dad is a Muggle and he don’t like magic very much and anyway, we could never afford a broom.” He saw the look in Olivia’s eyes and hastily added, “I’ve practiced and practiced shooting. At school, you know Muggle school, I played a lot of basketball. I got my dad to fix me up a hoop at home,” he laughed mirthlessly, “my dad thought it was great, me taking an interest in ‘normal’ stuff. But I practiced shooting and catching one handed and even with a broom (a normal one) between my legs and everything.”

“Listen,” Olivia said, “If you’re this keen you’ve got seven years, well six after this one to get your flying skills up to scratch. I’m sorry, but this year your flying skills are just not up to it, even if you could probably score a hoop from the ground. You’re welcome to try out today if you want to, but I just don’t want you to embarrass yourself, OK? You just don’t need it.”

He had his head bowed again, but he nodded.

“OK,” Olivia said, patting him on the shoulder once more, “practice. Practice your flying skills and come back next year, OK?”

Bryn walked off and Olivia watched him go but jumped and whirled around in surprise when Rose cleared her throat.

“Um Captain.” She began.

“Oh, you scared the shit out of me, I didn’t know you were there.”

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t think you did. I just wanted to say thank you and sorry too I guess, sorry I backchatted you and thank you for not tearing strips off me in front of everyone else.”

“Oh well, that’s OK, my dad taught me to do it.”

“I’ve met your dad,” Rose said, “he’s a nice guy.”

Olivia looked puzzled and then realisation dawned on her face, “Yeah, at the Potter’s New Year’s Dos, I must have seen you there, but I was always with that older group of kids and I’m afraid there are too many of you young redheaded Weasleys to keep track of.”

“Yeah we really didn’t mix, but I met your dad though.”

“My dad, he was so chuffed when I made the team, then when I was made Captain … oh, he was over the moon, but he told me, the most important thing in being a captain was this: praise people in public, but scold them in private.”

Rose nodded, “Well, thanks.” And as it seemed like the conversation was finished, she shrugged and went to walk off with her broom in her hands.

Only to be halted in her tracks by Wood asking, “What’re you doing?”

“I’m going to try out for chaser.”

Wood looked perplexed, “but I thought you and that other little show-off were going to go for seeker?”  
Rose wondered for a moment what to say, but she took a deep breath and decided upon the truth. She sighed out, “James has probably told you about Albus, hasn’t he? That’s why you called the tryouts so early, to beat the other houses in getting to him? Now look, I’m good seeker, in fact I’m better than good,” she shrugged her shoulders to indicate her laying her false modesty aside, “I think I’d make the team for sure,” she sighed again, “except for Albus.”

Rose could see that Olivia appreciated the honesty and knew what she was getting at because she said, with some surprise, “He’s that good?”

Rose snorted mirthlessly, “James and I’ve got a bet on, whether England calls him up for the world cup while he’s still at school or if they’ll wait till after.

“So, because I really want to make the team, I’ll try out for chaser because I’m alright at that too.”

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Rose joined the last group to fly up and down the field passing the quaffle to each other. Rose noted that Bryn hadn’t joined them and had taken a place in the stands. Olivia watched them all for a bit, comparing her thoughts with James and Kylie beside her, but then something on the ground caught her eye and she swooped down. Rose passed away the quaffle she’d just caught and looked down to see that Olivia was talking to a house-elf.

Olivia’s magically enhanced voice rang throughout the stadium “OK, that’s enough, come down. OK everyone, I planned this to be an all-day affair, so after lunch we’ll try the chasers out at goal scoring, but for now, I’m hungry.”

Behind her some students and a few house-elves were setting up some tables. “So you can go up to the Great Hall and have some lunch there, or, what I’ve done, is asked the house-elves if we could get some lunch down here. Oh, and here it comes.”

Bobbing down the hill that led up to the castle were trays of food, it was only when they were much closer could Rose see that there were house-elves under each one keeping them aloft with levitation charms.

“Now I’ve arranged enough so that all you Claws and Slytherins and Puffers too can stay and have some too.”

After the food had been set up and Rose had alighted once more upon the green sward of the pitch, she hear Olivia’s voice ring out again. “Everyone please thank the Hogwarts house-elves.” She led off everyone in their applause by clapping loudly. Some elves just smiled and walked away and some took little bows but the elf that Rose took particular note of was Stephen (with his ‘S-for-Stephen’ hat upon his head). Everyone else was starting to notice him too because he was taking multiple and exaggerated bows. People were laughing and cheering him on when he suddenly jumped up and with a crack disapperated only to reappear an instant later a metre higher. Then again and again; with a crack, crack, crack he ‘jumped’ up into the air. When he was about as high in the air as one of the goalposts he suddenly seemed to explode – there was a flash of light and a gout of smoke.

The crowd went completely silent, what had happened, was he alright?

Then after leaving it just a bit too long, allowing the worry to settle in; with a crack he reappeared back on the ground. Snatching the hat from his head and bowing extremely low he announced, “Lunch is served.”

There was a massive cheer from the crowd and he had a definite strut in his walk as he left the pitch.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

After lunch the eliminations began in earnest. 

Olivia had flunked out a few at the passing stage, but most remained on to have a go at shooting for goals. Each group was to start off in a line with one person stationed at first behind the goals. The kid at the front of the line would shoot for the goal; then they would fly around off to the side out of the way of the next person to take a shot; then they would be behind the goals waiting to catch the quaffle from the next person to shoot; and then they’d fly to the back end of the line to have another go.

The potential chasers had to score goals in undefended hoops and were allowed seven shots each – _‘Wasn’t seven the most powerful magic number after all?”_ Olivia thought. They each had to score at least five goals or they were out. By the end of it twenty were down to sixteen.

“OK,’ said Olivia, with her magically enhanced voice, “this time the goals are going to be defended. Hey, where are my two new goalies?”

They both trotted over from where they were sitting by the stands, the boy with his broom slung over his shoulder, the girl caring hers by her side. “You know what?” Olivia continued, “I was going to have to do this, but since I’ve got two new reserve goalies eager to prove their worth, I’ll let you both do it so that I can watch. One of you up either end, and don’t go easy on them – pretend this is your first training session, because it is.”

She split the hopefuls up into two groups and sent James and Kylie with Dominic to look over one set of goals, while she presided over the other where Lacient was defending the hoops. In her group she kept Rose and a couple of other students that she knew were friends of James’ or Kylie’s. Olivia did it to keep complaints about bias to a minimum, she’d also kept the boy from earlier, the one who’d back-chatted her – she thought he might be a problem and just wanted to keep him under her gaze.

Olivia had each of the hopefuls shoot for three goals each, in turn, then when the last person was reached, they went back up the order shooting another three goals each. That way, the first person to shoot against the goalie at her freshest would also be the one to shoot against her at her tiredest.

Two kids in her group didn’t score any so they were out straight off. Two others only got one goal each and were out as well. That left four and Rose was one. Rose went early on and only got one past the defence, but on her second go against a far more fatigued Lacient, she scored twice.

Unfortunately, the ‘little shit’ was also left. Olivia knew she’d have to stop thinking of him that way and learn his name if he made the team; with his attitude she sure hoped he wouldn’t. In his first go he’d scored once, then on the next the Keeper had made a spectacular save and stopped his second. He became surly after that and on his last attempt managed to fake her out and score an easy goal, flying away from it screaming out, “suck on that!” When he came up for the next three, the first one was easily saved because he tried to fake her out in exactly the same way – it was obviously some practiced move on his part. Lacient called out to him as he went back to shoot again, “Thanks for the easy catch; I can only suck them if I catch them.”

He just got angrier and for his next attempt flew straight at her and aimed a fast shot directly at the goal almost behind her head, from only meters away. She flinched out of the way and he scored. As he flew away, Olivia wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard him say, “Take that bitch.”

For his last shot he tried exactly the same thing. With an evil grin upon his face he bore down on her, flinging the quaffle straight at her head, but she had his measure and caught it firmly. He almost collided with her because she didn’t flinch and he swerved off muttering angrily at the unfairness of it.

James and Kylie came over with their group and told her that they had two good ones - one of whom was really good, according to James – there was a borderline one, but the rest were a bust. “You took all the good ones for yourself,” James said.

“OK, here’s what we’ll do. Get rid of the possibles. Sorry, but…” she said as they thanked her and flew away. “That leaves us with six, couldn’t have picked better. We’ll split you up into two teams and play you against each other. How are you going?” she asked of the two goalies. They were fine for more. “Good, good. I tell you what; Gryffindor is not going to lack for Keeping skill for years. If either of you get tired, let us know, and I’ll spell you, OK?”

The play just confirmed all of Olivia’s opinions and suspicions. If James told her that someone was really good, then she was probably outstanding. Andromeda was her name and she galvanised her three person team. She didn’t make all the plays of her team, but she was involved in almost all of them. Looking over all the chasers, there was some good talent there, but Andromeda was head and shoulders above the rest.

Watching the play also revealed all that she had suspected of the little shit was true (she was getting less and less inclined to think his name was anything else). He was a selfish and arrogant player. He was on the same ‘team’ as Rose to begin with and Olivia saw that she wasn’t too bad; getting into good positions and passing the quaffle around, but if it went to the little shit, that’s where it stayed. He would hog the quaffle and wouldn’t pass it even if his teammates were in the clear. Especially if it looked like they were in a position to score – it was like he didn’t want his own team to score if it wasn’t by him. He really was a little shit.

He did score one goal, much to Olivia’s annoyance, but he made numerous fouls doing so; including intimidation and bletching. Even when she swapped the teams around, mixing them up, he didn’t play any differently with different players.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Olivia called them down. “OK, it looks like we’ve got a fair bit of talent here, it’s very hard to pick. Before I do though, can I have a word?” She beckoned to the boy who’d back-chatted her before, _’he had been an awful ‘teammate,’_ Rose thought, and they both walked away from the group. 

He turned and gave Rose and the rest of them a smirk and strutted off to join Wood. From Rose’s meagre experience, she didn’t think he had anything to be happy about if Olivia was talking to him in private. Sure enough after a few quiet words from the captain, his whole demeanour changed and Rose could clearly hear him say, “What?” A few more quiet words from Olivia and he said loudly, “You’ve got to be kidding me?” Olivia said something else and turned and started walking back to the group.

“Hey come back,” he shouted after her, “It’s not over.”

“Yes it is,” said Olivia, still walking away.

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” he shouted again, catching up with her. “It’s not fair, and I want to know a better reason than, ‘I just don’t think you’d work on this team,’ bullshit.”

Olivia sighed, “OK, if you really have to know, we’ll go back over there…” but she was interrupted.

“Oh no you don’t,” he nearly shouted, “going where people can’t hear you, so you can weasel out of having to give me a real reason, because I know you have none.”

Olivia started to get angry, but Rose could see her gritting her teeth in forced patience. “No, I was going to speak to you in private because I wanted to spare your feelings – something you obviously don’t consider in others. I don’t think you’re a team player and I don’t think you’re good enough for this team.” She turned from him again and began to walk away but he grabbed her arm and spun her around.

“That’s not fair, I scored a goal, that’s more than Weasley or that other chick did.”

When he touched her, James and the rest of the members of the old team moved forward, but Olivia waved them down.

“Yeah, but you committed umpteen fouls doing so. In a real game you would have been stopped long before you reached the goals.”

“But it wasn’t fair, you always put me up against that good chick and only gave me those lame dudes and girls.”

“Huh,” Olivia said shaking her head, “It’s always someone else’s fault with you isn’t it; if you’re so fired up to have this out in the open, then so be it. Listen … actually I don’t know your name and frankly I don’t really want to; all this time I’ve been thinking of you as the little shit and that’s what you are; and a sexist shit to boot. 

“You’ve got some skills, yeah, but they’re totally overshadowed by your arrogance and your selfish play. You always hogged the quaffle, so much so, that when the teams swapped around they could completely shut you down and neutralise you as any sort of threat.” He tried to get a word in, but Olivia overrode him, “No, you wanted to hear what I wanted to say, so you’re going to. I don’t want a sexist selfish … basically what I’m saying, is that I don’t want a giant douche on my team.”

He spluttered out, “you can’t talk to me like that.”

“I think I just did, but if you don’t like my decision, then you can appeal if you want.” She held up both hands in a conciliatory gesture, but completely belied it when she shouted at him, “You can appeal to the GET THE FUCK OFF MY TEAM. I’m the captain this year and I’ll almost certainly be the captain next year – so don’t bother applying again next year unless you drastically change your shitty attitude. Now piss off.”

He was going to protest more, but the big beater got between him and Olivia. “You heard the captain, get your stuff and clear off.”

When he’d finally gone, storming back off towards the castle, Olivia came back to the team. “OK, now that’s over I have to pick … oh, before I do, can I have a word Rose?”

Rose’s shoulders slumped and she heard James and Olivia (at least) laugh, “No, no. It’s nothing bad, I just have to check something with you.”

Cheered, Rose followed her. Olivia started by saying, “look, you’re right, you’re not a bad chaser …”

Into the gap, Rose said, “It’s going to be Andromeda, isn’t it? She’s just too good.”

“Yeah, and with that little shit gone,” Rose chuckled at Olivia’s words, “that leaves four spares and I only really wanted a couple.”

Rose sighed.

“Hear me out. The more I think about it, having a whole spare set of chasers isn’t such a bad idea. But that leaves one over. Now I’m already having three reserves, so one extra is neither here nor there; so I’d like to see how you go as a seeker first, OK, before I announce it? I think you are good enough to be one of the reserves and with training, you could become better. Is that OK?”

Rose smiled and nodded her acceptance; she thought she was going to be told much worse.

“Do you mind if I tell the team?”

“No go ahead.”

So Andromeda became the next Gryffindor chaser with three reserves (potentially four) to tremendous applause.

When the clapping died down, Olivia asked, “why haven’t I seen you before, you’re third year aren’t you?”

“Well,” Andromeda said, “When I was in first year I wasn’t allowed, unlike this cheeky little sod who came along only a year later.” She threw a lazy arm out at James, who was supposed to, and did, jump out of the way. He had a huge grin on his face and blew her a kiss. “Then in second year, right before the start of school I got sick, really sick and I had weeks off. Missed the try-outs of course, didn’t I, and once I got back, you had James and you still had Fredricks then – so there was no place for me.” 

 

\--o-O-o--

 

“OK everyone,” Olivia’s enhanced voice rang out, “I think next we’ll do beaters.”

The big beater from last year’s team stood next to Olivia and the hopefuls lined up in front.

Rose wanted to see these tryouts because her cousin Fred was trying out. Rose got some food from the tables and went to sit with Dawnsfirstbloom in the stands. Albus was with her and, _‘Oh no, what was he doing here?’_

“Hey Rose,” called out Dawnsfirstbloom when she caught her eye, “great stuff.”

“Good job Rosie,” said Albus giving her a big grin. Ever since she spat the dummy on the Train about him calling her that name from their childhood, he had been cheekily calling her Rosie at every opportunity he could.

With a nod of his head, Scorpius said, “Miss Weasley.”

_‘Ugh, was he still keeping that ‘Miss Weasley’ crap up,’_ it was really starting to grate on Rose’s nerves.

“A fine performance; if that is your second choice of position, then your skills as a seeker must be prodigious indeed.”

Rose didn’t know how to take him, was he taking the piss? She couldn’t detect any overt duplicitousness, so she mumbled out a, “thank you,” and under her breath added, “I suppose.”

They watched the try-outs. Olivia had all of her chasers, except for James and her (because Fred was their cousin), flying up and down the pitch with big targets strapped to the bottom of their brooms. Olivia would chuck up a practice bludger and the hopefuls would try and belt it into a target.

There was no contest, Fred was head and shoulders better than everyone else and made the team easily. There were two others who showed promise, one was a first year boy, Evan Thomas – the son of Rose’s Dad’s old school mate, Dean Thomas. Olivia said he’d be good in a few years’ time, once he got some meat on his bones.

“OK,” rang out the enhanced voice of Olivia once more. Thank you for your patience, nearly done. If we could have the seekers who want to try out, come forward please.”

With a huge grin on his face, Albus said, “this is it, good luck Rose.”

“Yeah, same back to you too,” said Rose and she was pleasantly surprised that she meant it, how could she not wish him luck – Albus was one of her favourite persons in the whole world. Not that she wouldn’t try her hardest to make on the team, but she did wish him well.

“OK, here’s what we’re going to do,” said Olivia when they all stood around her. “I’m going to go down one end of the pitch and Kylie will go down the other. I can’t use James because of you two,” and gave Albus and her a pointed stare. “We’ve each a bucket full of golf balls and we’ll take it in turns to throw them around the field. You get seven tries each and the one who catches the most gets on the team.”

_‘Oh is that all,’_ thought Rose, but she must have said it out loud because people were looking at her and laughing. Rose blushed and she hoped the captain didn’t think she was questioning her, but when she looked Olivia was laughing along with all the rest.

“Yeah, sometimes the simple, old stuff works the best. I couldn’t think up a better way except by using a real snitch; I wasn’t allowed to use a school one and I don’t have a training one yet.”

“OK then,” she said looking them all over, “Who’s first? I think we’ll go oldest to youngest.”

That meant Rose was second last, being a month or two older than Albus. Good. She began to stretch and warm up, all the while keeping her eye on the other kids trying out. She felt her spirits rise because they weren’t that good; even the few sixth and seventh years. The seventh year boy caught four, but Rose could see that the first four throws were easy ones to catch. The next few to try were hopeless and barely caught the ones thrown directly to them. The last one before her go, was a girl, obviously friends with Andromeda because Andromeda was down on the grass edge cheering her on. She was good and caught all but the fourth throw and the seventh.

When Rose flew up for her turn, she was determined that she would catch all seven.

The first two were easily caught. The third was a high loping one, and easily caught. The fourth, Kylie threw out hard and fast and with a very flat trajectory, Rose had to put on a bit of speed, but, it was easily caught. The fifth, Olivia faked Rose out – she went to throw the ball one way down the pitch, and Rose started to move off that way, but then Olivia switched sides mid, throw and hurled it down the other side of the pitch. Rose had to wrench her broom around and really put on speed. She saw the trajectory and had to head downwards as well as towards where the ball would be. She ended up catching it a few meters above the ground. She didn’t have time to pause however, because as soon as she turned around Kylie was already throwing the next one. Rose sped across the field, not bothering to gain any height and again managed to catch it a few meters of the ground.

She quickly turned around, in case Olivia was going to throw hers quickly too, but she hadn’t and motioned for Rose to gain some height. Rose started to rise and started to inch forwards. Olivia faked her out once, or tried to then once again, but Rose wasn’t falling for it. Olivia saw that, so she pulled back her arm, like she was going to hurl it sky high. Rose began to lift her broom upwards.

Olivia paused with her hand far out behind her, seemingly to draw out the tension. Then she did something totally unexpected (as far as Rose was concerned, anyway). Olivia brought her arm around till it was straight out beside her and just dropped the golf ball straight down.

Rose had been drifting up and she knew she wasn’t going to make it, but she sped forwards determined to try anyway. Faster and faster she went, coaxing all the speed she could out of her broom. There was nothing in her world except the ground and the little white ball falling towards it. She reached out her hand as she got closer and closer. She felt the long grass whipping against the back of her hand as she closed her fingers around the ball and soared back up with the ball clutched in her hand triumphantly.

She was close enough to Olivia that she could throw the ball back to her. Olivia caught it and said, “Well done Weasley, well done. Let’s see your cousin do better.”

Flying down she passed Albus who was on his way up. “You’re the one to beat Rosie,” he said in passing, “you were fantastic.”

She was met on the ground by Dawnsfirstbloom and Malfoy. “Wow,” Dawnsfirstbloom said, “just wow! How good are you.” Giving Rose a high five, well, what passed for them as a high five. Dawnsfirstbloom would jump up, swinging her arm around and then down in front. Rose would swing her arm up, palm upwards and then meet with a resounding slap.

Rose looked at Malfoy and for once could read his expression. He was genuinely impressed. Without any trace of his normal pomposity or stilted manner he said, “you were amazing Rose.”

That feeling she had around Malfoy sometimes, stirred deep within her. She just didn’t understand what it was and furthermore, didn’t know how to react so she did the first thing that came to mind. 

She punched him; in the arm.

Just like she would have done with James or Albus or any of her male cousins – it wasn’t too hard and she gave him a muttered, “thanks.”

Scorpius grabbed his arm, his eyebrows furrowed and his lip curled down. “Ow! That really hurt.”

Rose was suddenly at a loss and didn’t know what to do or say. “Um,” she began, but was saved from further embarrassment by Dawnsfirstbloom shouting out, “Albus is starting.”

All attention was on him and Rose ‘forgot’ about Malfoy and kept stealing glances at him; he was still rubbing his upper-arm where Rose had hit him, _‘maybe it hadn’t been so soft after all.’_

Albus had a similar time of it to Rose, though mixed up slightly, for variation. For instance, it was Kylie who faked him out, not Olivia as it had been for Rose.

Olivia had not dropped the ball straight down during any of her throws, so Albus must have reasoned she would do it for her last. Rose could see his reasoning clearly because straight after his sixth catch (a fast flat one from Kylie) he immediately spun around and sped back towards Olivia. Rose looked up and could see that Olivia was getting a golf ball from her bucket and hadn’t noticed Albus’ movements. She stretched out her arm, ready to drop the ball and looked around for Albus. She didn’t notice him at first but then movement caught her eye and she was surprised that he was already halfway towards her – if she dropped it now it would almost be into his waiting hands. Caught on the hop she drew her arm back and launched the ball way back over Albus’ head.

He skidded to a halt (as much as you can ‘skid’ on a broom) and turned his head following the ball’s path as he began to pick up speed again. Rose noted though, it was in the wrong direction. Only slightly, but enough that he was definitely going to miss it by ten meters or more, twenty even. Rose was shouting out, “NO,” and so were others who obviously saw what she did. He was getting closer to the ground and began stretching out his hand. Rose couldn’t help doubt the evidence of her own eyes, but there was the golf ball falling slowly to the side of him. He seemed to grab at something on the ground and then, at the last minute, jerked to the side. If the onlookers had thought he was going fast before it was as nothing to the burst of speed he now made. He whizzed across the ground and ended up catching the golf ball easily. He sailed back with his fist in the air to tumultuous applause which soon changed to laughter. It became apparent that he had actually snatched something else from the ground in his first grab, because there, in-between his teeth was the long stem of a daisy that he must have plucked from the turf. 

Rose had to laugh with the rest and turned to look at Scorpius who was standing there staring with his mouth hanging open; Rose noted he was still absentmindedly rubbing his upper arm where she had hit him. Rose balled her fist up, but didn’t strike him, just used it to push him, rocking him back on his heels. He turned to look at Rose, but from his vacant and unfocused expression, she knew he wasn’t really seeing her.

“That’s what we are up against?

“He was caught out going the wrong way, no speeding the wrong way; he turns and not only manages to catch the ball, but he does a Wronski Feint into the bargain!”

“See I told you he was good,” Rose supplied.

She didn’t think he’d heard her as he was still staring off into the distance but he must have because he said, “no, not just good. I mean Rose was good, in fact she was exceptional,” Rose blushed at the compliment. She could tell he meant it because he hardly noticed she was there – his attention being so focused upon watching Albus’ return. “He’s professional standard, he could play for England; he should play for England. I mean, I’d like to think I could match Rose but…”

Albus was suddenly there, all grins (and daisies). Olivia Wood landed behind him and over the cheering she said, “Sorry Rose, but I think we’ve found our new…”

“Not so fast.” An older Ravenclaw girl interrupted as she barged to the front, “I want him on our team, he is in our house too.”

Another voice joined in as a tall Slytherin boy emerged from the crowd. “He went to Slytherin first so he obviously wants to be in our house the most, so he should be on the Slytherin team.”

Another girl piped up, obviously the same age as the rest, but her diminutive stature ensured she had to literally push someone out of the way to be seen. “No you know the state of our team, unless some amazing Puffs come out of the woodwork we’re going to be stuffed. He should be on the Hufflepuff team, we need him.”

They all began arguing with each other and was only stopped by a loud, “hey!” They turned to Albus as he said, “Don’t I get a say?”

“Well,” Olivia prompted, “where do you want to go?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it till now, but it would be unfair if I only went on one team – I am in every house after all – so couldn’t I go on every team, you know, take it in turns?”

The captains, that’s what Rose assumed they all must be, seemed to be considering it. “Nope,” said the Ravenclaw captain, “I thought about that. He could never practice with any team because he would see the plays they were working on.”

“But, I’d never tell,” pleaded Albus.

The Ravenclaw captain was one step ahead of him and everyone else, “but you should. When you are in the game, your loyalty should be to the team you are playing for – absolutely and categorically. So if you see the opposition setting up for a play that may potentially win them the game – a play you know about because you saw it in practice before hand – then you’d be obliged to let your teammates on the day know.”

Olivia looked at her Slytherin counterpart with a questioning look and shrugged one shoulder. He returned the look and began to nod. “She is right. Your loyalty must be unquestioningly with the team you are currently on. So you could never practice with any team.”

Olivia joined in, “and if you don’t go to training, then you can’t play. I don’t know about the others, but I for one won’t allow someone to play on the day if they could never practice with the team.”

There were nods all around from the other captains.

Olivia turned to Rose, “well Weasley, I guess you’re on the team.”

Rose opened her eyes wide in surprise and couldn’t stop a, “really?” escaping her lips. Olivia nodded back, but couldn’t hide her disappointment. Not that Rose saw it, preoccupied as she was with Dawnsfirstbloom jumping up and down beside her whilst trying to hug her at the same time. Rose managed to calm Dawnsfirstbloom down and the other well-wishers, but all she saw was Albus and what a sorry, pitiful figure he was. He wasn’t looking at anybody, just staring at the ground with his shoulders slumped. No one was talking to him either; everyone avoided him out of pity.

A pit of ice formed in Rose’s stomach. She didn’t blame anyone for not wanting to look at Albus. What could they say; the best seeker of their generation and he wouldn’t be allowed to play Quidditch.

* * *

**  
This is a much longer chapter than I normally do for this series, but there was no good place to break it in two and, furthermore, no good reason to do so. I think, with the House-elf stuff and the Olivia bits, it doesn't really drag too much. Anyway, there is always a way to let me know ... in that little comment box below. ;)**

**And yes, as a past reviewer has pointed out there is no hard and fast rule as such preventing first years from joining their house teams, it was intimated in the books that it was strongly discouraged (as well as being beyond the normal first year's level of experience).**

**Thanks again to my lovely beta, bittersweetflames who had to suffer through this chapter as she doesn’t really like sports. And after the horrible thing I did to Albus at the end (her favourite character by the way) I was lucky that she was still on speaking terms with me by the end. Well she did it and the story was better for her input (and correction of my spelling and gramma mistakes).**

**Well, I wonder what will happen with Albus, for that, I’m afraid you’ll have to stay tuned.  
**


	11. Problems and Solutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which one of our main four finds a solution to his major problem.
> 
> Rose finally accepts something she hadn't before; the camaraderie of Quidditch, despite house differences; the Albus Variation; the camaraderie of a common enemy.
> 
> _“Yes, I truly do. I know you, Albus; I know you are brave and loyal and you should be in Gryffindor.” She talked over him beginning to protest, “I also know you are smart too and sometimes sly and also very. Very. Big-hearted.”_

**Note: If I was writing about Albert trying to find a solution for his Quidditch problems, then it'd all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec ... oh, there's nothing really of mine here after all, except ... except, hey hold on, Stephen is mine, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

The main banner and all chapter images have been painted by myself.

* * *

Chapter11: Problems and Solutions 

 

At dinner that night, Rose was congratulated by all her dorm-mates and she thanked them all, but it felt like bitter ashes in her mouth. She dreaded seeing Albus and looked up nervously every time someone walked through the doors of the Great Hall. Her gaze would flick away as soon as she did so because, while she couldn’t help but look, she dreaded seeing him.

She was hardly paying attention to the chattering going on around her when he suddenly appeared. She found that when she did finally see him, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. He looked over towards her almost straight away and just as quickly a smile came to his face. Rose felt sick.

“Rosie.” He came over to her side of the table and placed his hand on her shoulder when he got there. “Hey there, sorry I didn’t catch you earlier; I haven’t congratulated you yet for getting on the team. I told you that you were good enough.”

Rose looked up into his grinning, honest face and felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes; and this was when she knew for certain that the Sorting Hat had not been wrong. Albus was loyal and brave, a true Gryffindor down to his bootstraps, but he was also clever and had that sly sense of humour and a desire to prove himself his own man – away from his famous father. So he was a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin too. And now this, Rose knew he had a big heart, just like his dad, but he was standing there congratulating her in all sincerity, even though the ashes of his future lay all about him.

They’d grown up so close together that Rose knew him, closer than even a sister could. They had been best friends for years. So she could see, she knew, that there was no recrimination, nothing false behind his words. Though it must be breaking his heart on some level – Quidditch meant a lot to Rose, but she knew it meant a similar amount to Albus – there he was, genuinely happy for her.

It almost broke her heart.

She came to a decision in that instant, “nope!” she said and grabbed Albus’ hand, “come with me,” and began to drag him behind her from the Great Hall; stopping only when she came to a nearby deserted corridor. “Nope, it’s not right. You’re better than me; you should be the Gryffindor seeker.”

“I can’t, Rose.”

“Yes, you can, it’s not fair to not let you play.”

“But it’s not fair to the other teams if I play for just one. I am in every house, Rose.”

“I know.”

“Do you, Rose?”

“Yes, I truly do. I know you, Albus; I know you are brave and loyal and you should be in Gryffindor.” She talked over him beginning to protest, “I also know you are smart too and sometimes sly and also very. Very. Big-hearted.”

Albus could tell she meant it, he knew her well too. “So you do see, and you know that if I belong in every house, then I should be on every team.”

“OK then, if you should be on every team, then you do that.” 

“But you heard them,” Albus began.

“But nothing,” Rose countered him. “I saw Olivia’s face - she would have had you part of the time for sure, and that Slytherin bloke would have and all. I didn’t see the Puffer girl’s face, but I bet she would take you; as desperate for talent as she said she was. Even that Ravenclaw girl must have thought so, until she wrecked it all up about the practicing.”

Albus tried to say something, get a word in edgewise, but Rose just talked over him. “Practice, I know. Practice and Training is the problem. So use your Ravenclaw smarts and make it work.” 

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Rose didn’t see him again for the rest of the evening. She wondered where he had slept, but it was answered at breakfast the next morning when he bounded in with the Ravenclaw captain. He was close enough that Rose overheard all he said to her.

“So just after breakfast, yes? Good. If you want to tell the other captains and, I don’t know, sit at the end of your table? OK, good, I’ll see you there, I just have to talk to Rose.” He bounded over, with a big grin upon his face. “Hi ho, Rose, how are you this fine morning?”

Rose let out a heavy sigh, “What is it? What do you want?”

“Nothing, nothing. Can’t a cousin…” But he saw her face and dropped all the playfulness and became a bit more serious (he was still happy though, Rose could tell). “Actually, I wanted to thank you for what you said to me last night. I didn’t, I mean, I wasn’t angling for you to drop the team and let me play, you do know, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know Albus, I know.” Rose took in his demeanour and added, “I take it by all this,” she waved a hand at him, “all this ... happiness that you’ve worked out a solution to your problem?”

He beamed at her. “Oh yeah, I had a brainwave, but Rose is it still OK?”

Rose nodded. “Yep, I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Albus laughed. “I know that’s certainly true, but if what I want works out you’ll only get to play half the time. Still OK?”

Rose sighed, as much as she wanted to play she did not want to be the one to stand in the way of Albus playing. “Yes, yes I’m sure.”

“You are the best, Rose. Thanks.” He was nodding at her, but then he winced. “Actually Rose, it would be less than half the time because,” and he had the grace to look sheepish, “I also wanted to ask you Rosie, do you mind if I play the first game, the first Gryffindor game?”

Rose frowned, not really understanding.

“You know if I got sorted into another house, I would have been happy to play for them, but if I’ve got the choice – and I might have – I would so much love it if my first game at Hogwarts could be for Gryffindor - just like Dad's was.”

“Oh, I understand. Yes of course you can, that way both our first times playing will be for the Gryffindor team.”

“I knew you’d get it. Thanks Rose, it means a lot to me.”

Rose’s expression changed.

Albus wondered if she was regretting her acquiescence, but then he felt a presence behind him. Laughing he had already started speaking, before turning to greet his mate. “Hi Scorp, you got my message then?” 

“Yes I did.” Then turning to Rose he did that bow with just his head and shoulders. “Good morning to you, Miss Weasley. Do you mind if I sit?”

“Malfoy,” she said with a snarky manner, “it’s OK, we can always have it fumigated later.”

“Far be it from me to cause anyone discomfort. I will remain standing until I return to my own house table.”

“Don’t be stupid, Scorp, she didn’t mean it,” Albus said as he pulled his mate down to sit beside him.

Rose gave Scorpius a look which said quite the opposite.

As Scorpius sat, he said, “At your invitation, Albus.”

Albus went over the basics of what he’d said to Rose, now to Scorpius. Would Scorpius mind that he wouldn’t be playing every match with Slytherin?

Scorpius assured him it wouldn’t matter to him. “Of course I don’t mind,” Scorpius said and Rose noted the supercilious air he adopted around her was suspiciously absent. “But I’m not on the team yet.”

“You will be mate, if you’re even half as good as you think you are.”

Rose snorted, but before anyone could say anything they were interrupted by James.

“Hey Albus, what’s going on here? What are you doing bringing your slimy Slytherin mates over to the Gryffindor tables?”

Before Albus got a chance to respond, Scorpius said, “I do apologise,” meeting James’ glare square on and not moving from where he was sitting.

 _‘Good for him,’_ thought Rose, impressed in spite of herself. She was too fair to squash the thought down just because of her dislike – Rose did value bravery when she saw it, after all.

“I have already been informed by your cousin, Miss Weasley – Miss Rose Weasley to be distinct - that the bench will have to be fumigated once I leave. I do regret any inconvenience I may have caused.”

There was a beat and James started laughing. “Yeah, we keep a bottle of Slytherin disinfectant at the Gryffindor table at all times.”

“I’m sure you do.”

That made James laugh all the more. “I’ll just go and get it now. You might want to clear off before I get back, I’ve heard it stings.”

Scorpius waited till James had walked away and turned around to Albus with a big grin on his face. “I’d better go, I want a bit of breakfast myself.”

Albus grabbed his arm as he stood. “Hey mate, after brekkie I’m going to go talk to the captains, will you come with, for a bit of moral support? Rose will come too, won’t you?”

Rose looked into her cousin’s hopeful face, “Yeah, OK Al. I’ll come too, only to see what solution you’ve actually come up with first hand.”

“If Miss Weasley has accepted the invitation, it would be churlish of me to do otherwise. I shall join you there. Later, Miss Weasley.” He bowed and was gone.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

All the captains were sitting together on one side of the Ravenclaw table as Albus came up. They looked intimidating: the Ravenclaw girl and the Slytherin boy both had crossed arms and were frowning, waiting to see what this upstart first year had to say; Olivia just had a bemused look on her face; and the Hufflepuff girl … It was the first time that Rose had really gotten a good look at the girl. She was small and might have been considered timid, but by the look of happiness on her face you could tell she was an ‘up’ sort of person.

“Thanks for agreeing to hear me out. I hope you don’t mind, but I brought along two mates who helped me out and are probably going to be affected by your decision.”

The Slytherin captain raised an eyebrow as he looked Scorpius over. Scorpius deliberately avoided his gaze as he sat next to Albus.

“So, thanks for this,” Albus repeated himself. “Rose told me that she saw your reactions when I said I’d share myself around and play a game or two for every team. She said it looked like you were all happy about it – except for the deal with the training. Is that right?”

The captains all looked at each other and Albus too. Olivia was the first to speak, “Yeah, that’s why I picked you over Rose. No offence, Weasley.” Rose shrugged it off. “But yeah, I’d have you for even part of the time.”

“Me too, definitely” piped up the Hufflepuff captain.

“Even though we are yet to hold our tryouts and even if some of our hopefuls work out,” the Slytherin captain said. As he said this, he looked again at Scorpius who flinched this time under his gaze, but didn’t look away. “I’d still have you too.”

They all looked to the Ravenclaw Captain. “Our tryouts are today, as you know, and I still have an incumbent seeker, unlike the other teams, and I’ve got a good couple of prospects who tried out last year. Saying all of that, I don’t think that there is anyone of your talent. But the practice thing is a big but.”

Very quickly, without giving her a chance to finish what she was saying, Olivia interjected with, “and you’d know about big butts.”

Without looking her way, the Ravenclaw captain backhanded Olivia, who was just laughing at her. The Hufflepuff captain was laughing too and even the dour expression of the Slytherin boy cracked a snort or mirth at the backhander, saying, “Serves you right, Wood.” The three first years didn’t dare say anything.

“As I was saying,” the Ravenclaw girl managed to get out in an exasperated manner as she looked around at Olivia who had a ‘butter-wouldn’t-melt’ expression on her face, “the Practice thing is a big … issue.” But even she had to laugh at Olivia who waggled her eyebrows at her. Shaking her head, she continued, “You have to train with a team if you want to play.”

“Ah ha!” interjected Albus, bringing all of the older student’s attentions squarely back to him. “You did it too. We all do it; I do it, you guys do it, but it was only Rose last night who didn’t when she told me to sort out the training and the practice issue. But all the rest of us, call it either training or practice and we mean the same thing, but they aren’t – they actually mean two ... not very different things, but subtly different things. What do you do at training, Olivia?”

Rose was thinking he was being a bit too generous, she had said training and practice to him last night, but she had meant them as virtually the same thing.

“Ar, I’m not going to give away any Gryffindor secrets.”

“No, I’m not asking you too. I mean, what would anyone do at any training – be it for Quidditch or soccer or any game?”

“Oh, Ok. We usually start off with warming up.”

“Yep exercise,” interrupted Albus, “run laps, push-ups, fly around the pitch even; all training, not practice. On the day of the game you don’t do any of that except for a bit of warm up, gentle stuff, do you. OK Olivia, what else do you do?”

“OK, um, probably the next is drills.”

“Drills, good: passing a quaffle around, or shooting for goals or whacking a bludger back and forth. All still training, getting close to what you actually do in a game, but still, um… for instance, you rarely get to have a shot at goal, as a chaser, without a few people trying to get in your way and deliberately blocking you. Yes? So it’s all still training. What’s next, Olivia?”

Rose could see the Ravenclaw girl’s expression of dawning comprehension and she was nodding her head. Rose herself thought she knew where Albus might be going, but still didn’t know what his solution might be.

“OK, last thing, is we’d probably end up doing some set pieces.”

“And that is the closest thing yet that’s gotten close to practice, but it’s still only training. You simulate what’ll happen in a game but you can’t do it all – you’ve usually got no opponents in the way. Though Olivia, with all your reserves, you might be able to simulate a real game situation closely. But, still, it’s training; not practice. And I bet each one of you does almost exactly the same thing at each of your training sessions.”

Albus looked around at all the Quidditch captains and saw he had their undivided attention, most of them were even nodding at him. “I say, I maintain, that the only way to practice Quidditch is to play Quidditch.”

The Ravenclaw captain’s mouth suddenly dropped open in surprise. “Are you proposing … ”

Albus nodded back to her with a smile upon his lips, he could tell she was getting it. “Yes. What I propose is that every Saturday – except for the Hogsmeade ones – we have a training session and a game; two of the houses together.”

Albus sat back and let it sink in. Each of the captains were looking at each other and at him.

The first to speak was the Slytherin captain, “But we can’t train together.”

“Why not?” countered Albus. “As Olivia said there are three bits to training – exercise, drills and tactics.” He counted them off on his fingers, but held onto the last. “You certainly can’t do your tactics in front of the other teams, but the rest? Do you really do your push-ups any differently than the Claws, do they run around the oval any differently than you? And drills; I don’t think I’m giving any secret away by saying that you fly along in a line passing the quaffle to each other, or you fly up one by one and the captain passes you the quaffle and you throw it back, etcetera. Am I right? Not really a secret is it.”

“So what does it matter if you do those things in front of each other, and then we have a game?”

“And it’s good that I’m a seeker because, really, all that seekers do is fly around and stay out of the way of any set plays. I know there are a few set plays which involve the seekers, but not many because it’s usually too dangerous a tactic to take them away from what they should be doing.”

He stopped and looked them all over, he thought he had them. There were nods and ‘well why not’ sort of looks passing between the captains.

The Ravenclaw captain spoke up, “You know, this doesn’t sound too bad, but there are still a couple of problems I can see at least. One is the other seeker – there’s you and a seeker from one team and the seeker from another. You know that if this is our main training session, I mean practice session, then they will still have to have a go.”

Albus was smiling. “Yeah, I thought about this, we could always play with three seekers.”

“What?” said someone and the Slytherin captain said, “That makes no sense.”

“Think about it,” Albus said, “Just say it’s Slytherin vs Gryffindor. Scorp here would be the Slytherin seeker and Rose would be the Gryffindor one and I wouldn’t be for either house.”

“Huh?”

“So if it were a real game, with scoring and all that: if Scorp caught the snitch 150 points to Slytherin; if it was Rose then 150 points to Gryffindor; but if I got it then neither team gets the points. And it doesn’t matter either way – the game still ends once the snitch is caught.”

There was silence as everyone digested it. “You know,” said the Ravenclaw captain at last, “that could actually work. It’d be really good practice for the seekers, you’d have your work cut out for you if you have to keep track of an extra person out to get the snitch. Alright, so that’s fine, but if it’s a game, a proper game, then we’ll need a ref, and I don’t see Madam Cleansweep coming out every weekend in her time-off to ref our games.”

Rose suppressed a giggle; she had no idea that Cleansweep was an actual name and it came as such a surprise during her first flying lesson. It made sense if it was just the title of a broom – as in ‘the new broom sweeps clean’ – but apparently, all the Cleansweep brooms had been made by the Cleansweep family business for over two hundred and forty years.

“We’ll definitely need a ref though, even if it’s only to keep everyone honest. And they’ll have to be impartial and not connected to either of the houses that are playing and, oh … I’ve just answered my own question haven’t I? The ref has to be a player from one of the other houses not playing.”

“Yep,” agreed Albus, “but it doesn’t have to be, a player that is. I bet if you asked around your own houses, you’d get one or two people who just want to be refs.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” said the Hufflepuff captain, “maybe they didn’t make the team or could be they just like flying or whatever; but I think he’s right. I bet we’ll find a ref in every house, at least one.”

“OK,” said Olivia, “do you have any more probs, Jen?”

Rose wondered who Olivia was talking to until the Ravenclaw captain spoke up, “No I don’t think so, that’s it for me.”

“Actually I have one point," the Slytherin captain said, "not a problem as such, but you said we’d have games, these practice slash training games every weekend bar the Hogsmeade visit ones, but you can’t have one of these ‘games’ on the same weekend as one of the real matches.”

Albus went to speak, but the older boy cut him off, “and no, you can’t have the two teams who aren’t in the proper game on Sunday playing on Saturday because, and I’ve seen it happen, teams who should be playing can be switched at the last moment.”

There were cries of outrage from the other three captains. Jen, the Ravenclaw, managed to shout down the others. “No way! Is this the captain my-keeper’s-got-dragon-pox-so-we-have-to-be-switched speaking? Just so you didn’t have to play in the weekend we had all that unexpected snow?”

“Yeah,” the other two chorused in agreement.

“Is that right?” he spat back at them indignantly. “What about Diggle’s broken arm last year, or what’s her name who had to go back home because her aunt died.”

The girls were all protesting, ‘that’s not the same,’ and, ‘his leg was actually broken,’ and even, ‘that was legitimate, Candace was brought up by her aunt.’

When he could get an edge in, the Slytherin captain said, “And so was mine, he legitimately had Dragon Pox.”

All three girls had a ‘yeah right’ sort of expression on their faces, but it was Olivia who sighed and said, “He’s right – not about the Dragon pox, I never believed that for a second – no, he’s right about teams being switched out at the last minute. Every house has had to do it at least once.”

“Well,” said Albus, “I wasn’t going to say that. You can either not have the practice game on that Saturday, or… Olivia, in your tryouts yesterday you said, and Jenifer you said it was a good idea and you were going to do it today in your selections; you are both going to have a full team of reserves. So if both of you guys do the same,” he said looking at the Slytherin captain and the Hufflepuff one, “ then on the weekends of the proper games, the reserve side from the opposite houses playing the next day, well, they can get a game.”

All the captains were making appreciative noises even the Hufflepuff one, but she did grumble, “We’ll be lucky to get one whole team let alone two.”

“Well, Albus,” Jenifer said, “I for one think your plan is sound and I’d be happy to have you on my team.”

“No,” said Albus firmly, “No, I have to try out first, what if yesterday was a fluke?”

“Oh, shit!” Jenifer suddenly exclaimed, “is that the time? I have to get going to set up for the tryouts. I spoke to the House-elves yesterday and they’re going to do the same for us as they did for you, but I have to scramble. Could you do the final prep with them, please Olly?”

“Yeah sure Jen, I’ll see you down there.” Olivia said, and it became obvious to Rose that the Olly must be short for Olivia; the same way that Olivia used Jen, which was probably short for Jennifer. The way the two girls acted around each other Rose could tell that they were firm friends, despite being in different houses and Captains of their respective Quidditch teams.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Rose and Dawnsfirstbloom were sitting in the stands. As they always did when they were alone and had some time to spare they indulged in an impromptu gobbledegook lesson.

“Broom,” said Dawnsfirstbloom pointing one out, **_“broom,”_** she repeated in goblin.

 ** _“Broom,”_** repeated Rose.

“Captain,” said Dawnsfirstbloom point at Jenifer, **_“captain.”_**

 ** _“Kepten,”_** repeated Rose.

“No, that’s too ‘ard, you made the consonants too ‘ard; just a bit softer, **_‘captain,’_** like that.”

 ** _“Capten,”_** repeated Rose.

“Better, but…”

Rose shushed her, “Shh, here comes Malfoy and I don’t want him knowing.”

“Oh Rose,” Dawnsfirstbloom said, rolling her eyes at her friend. Mischievously she yelled out, “Scorpius, ‘ey over ‘ere. Come and sit with us. Yip!” The sudden exclamation came because Rose had just pinched her.

“Certainly, Dawnsfirstbloom,” and as he arrived he inclined his head towards Rose. “Miss Weasley. What was it that you two were doing?”

Just at that moment came some raised voices from further down the stands. As Scorpius looked to see, Dawnsfirstbloom said, in a voice which didn’t carry beyond Rose, “Oh, Rose here was just saying, ‘ow tall and ‘andsome you, Yip!”

Rose was beginning to turn red as Scorpius turned back to them with a quizzical expression on his face. “Ahp!” Rose exclaimed, shifting about in her seat because she had just been pinched in return by Dawnsfirstbloom. “Just sit down and get out of our way so that we can watch the tryouts.”

 

\--o-O-o—

 

The tryouts were much the same as for the Gryffindor ones, even down to the targets for the beaters and the buckets of golf balls. Rose had overheard Jen, the Ravenclaw captain, shouting out to Olivia, “Hey can we use those for our tryouts tomorrow?” Rose had seen by the expression on the Ravenclaw captain’s face that it had come as a surprise to her when Olivia had replied in the affirmative; she must have thought Olivia wouldn’t have wanted to share their stuff. But then Olivia had explained, “That way you can pick the best Ravenclaw team that you can, so that when we beat you, and we will, we will know that we beat the best Ravenclaw had to offer.”

Ravenclaw still had a good keeper from last year, but they held tryouts for a spare and found a second year who really needed to grow before he would be truly effective, but he showed a lot of promise. They started the tryouts for the chasers before lunch and Rose could see there were two very good likelys for the missing chaser position they needed as well as another few as potential reserves.

“Hey, there’s the Slytherin house-elf,” cried Scorpius as he saw the tables being set up for lunch.

“No, that’s Stephen,” Rose corrected him without thinking, not even paying attention to what she was saying, “He just selected the Slytherin hat because it had S on it for Stephen.”

“How on earth do you know that?” Scorpius asked in amazement.

Rose went red as she realised that she’d revealed far more than she’d meant to. “Come on, we’ll miss the good sanga’s,” she said, changing the subject and effectively running away.

She left behind her a confused Scorpius and a wryly amused Dawnsfirstbloom. “She means sandwiches,” laughing at his puzzlement, “it’s bloody Australian slang in’it; 'alf the time I can’t understand a bloody word she says. But she’s right though, if we don’t get a wriggle on we’ll miss the good ones; come on.”

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Lunch was, in all essentials the same as yesterday, except there were a couple of extra, smaller tables because there were more people there today. Stephen had just finished laying one of the smaller tables when he loudly said, “damn, laid the table cloth upside down. Oh well…” and so saying, gripped the edge of the tablecloth and prepared to heave. There was an intake of breath from everyone within view as he yanked it out … leaving every plate and glass and bowl perfectly still upon the table. There was applause then a massive bark of laughter as he levitated every dish upon the table upwards so that he could re-lay the tablecloth; it was obvious that he could have done so in the first place and avoided all the drama. He lowered the dishes back upon the freshly laid table, seemingly guiding them down with his slowly lowering left hand, but halfway down he raised up his right hand and snapped his fingers. One dish fell out from amongst the others, hit the table and then fell off as all the others landed gently. Stephen turned to his audience, “no great loss, I hate egg-salad.” 

Stephen stayed around once the lunch was set, unlike the day before, to help out with the other few elves who had to stay. There were more dishes today and some of them required serving.

Rose went along the tables picking out sandwiches and cold meat and other delicious comestibles. She passed the table Stephen was behind and greeted him, “Hi there, Stephen. Good show yesterday.” He nodded in her direction to show his thanks.

“Didn’t much like your show today though, because I love egg salad.”

“Sux to be u then don’t it,” he shot back.

Dawnsfirstbloom drew in her breath in surprise at his words, but Rose was laughing and when Dawnsfirstbloom turned back she could see the elf was smiling as well. It took the sting out of what at first appeared to be nastiness on the elf’s part.

“Got anything special lined up for next week?”

“Mebe I does, mebe I doesn’t,” he said with an insouciant expression.

“OK then, I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see, but just for your information, I don’t like pumpkin salad at all.”

Rose had almost left the table that Stephen was behind when he said, “Duly noted … Miss Weasley.”

The three of them had just about finished piling up their plates and were about to head back to the stands and eat when they heard a raised voice behind them.

“I said Elf, House-Elf, get me it.”

They turned back to see Stephen studiously ignoring a tall, imperious looking older Ravenclaw boy. “You, elf with the Slytherin hat, I’m talking, fetch me it,” and he was pointing to something on the far side of the table.

House-elves were still not that common outside of Hogwarts, but they were becoming more prevalent outside of the old wizarding families as more achieved their freedom. Hogwarts was a big source of these ‘journeyman’ elves, who’d grown up all of their lives at Hogwarts and now wanted to see the world. Even with their general scarcity, most people knew you didn’t talk like that to House-elves, especially not the free ones. And it wasn’t like you couldn’t tell the free ones – they wore clothes. 

The other students around the Ravenclaw boy were looking at him with distaste, some were even muttering to each other about him and a few of those closest to him were slowly backing away.

Stephen made a big show of looking behind him and to either side and only ‘just now’ noticing that the boy was talking to him. “Oh, I’m sorry your trainee wizardship, was you talking to this poor little elf?”

“Yes,’ said the boy with disdain, ‘and I want…”

Stephen spoke over him, “You wants me to fetch you it? And there I was ignoring the big, tall, obviously important trainee wizard, but no more. I shall get you it straight away.” And with that, the elf disappeared on the spot. It took a little while for it to sink in, but the onlookers realised that he wasn’t going to come back anytime soon.

The tall boy got angry and cast his gaze around, finally finding an elf two tables over. She was wearing tea-towels and at the barked, “You”, she got this resigned expression on her face and replied with a, “yes, yes, I knows.” She came over to the table and piled a mound of mashed potato onto his plate (rather sloppily) and handed it over.

“Finally,” said the boy, “a House-elf who knows its place.”

The elf was scowling up at the tall boy in front of her, but then she scanned the crowd in Rose’s direction and stopped when she caught sight of Rose. The little elf met Rose’s eyes and pointed to her head and started tapping it. Rose got the message and beamed her acceptance at the elf, nodding vigorously. The elf smiled and nodded herself, but then went back to serving.

Later on, when Rose went back to the tables to top up her drink, she found the elf and asked her, “what colour?”

“Honey would very much like a purple one if it is not too much trouble for the young miss?”

“That’s OK, I think I have some spare lilac wool. Would that do?”

“Oh, yes please miss, and …” but the elf suddenly looked shy and cast her gaze downwards.

“Go on,” prompted Rose, “what else do you want?”

“Honey has seen them, yes, on the hats of the young ladies, she has; flowers. Would you, if it’s not too much to ask the young miss, could you make a flower to go on it too?”

“Yes, of course,” Rose said happily, “I can do that easily – crocheted Roses are my speciality.”

 

\--o-O-o--

 

The results of the Ravenclaw try-outs were fairly uneventful – a new chaser was found and three reserves, a new beater and a couple of spares – uneventful that was, till the try-outs for seeker. The stands had been filling all day, especially since lunch, but now they were positively groaning; word had obviously gotten around.

Rose was looking around for Albus as the selection process commenced, but he was nowhere to be seen. The Ravenclaw captain had been calling out the names of each of the hopefuls before they flew up. Rose didn’t pay much attention to the names but looked up every now and then to see who the reserve might be. The incumbent had gone first and she wasn’t too bad; she was quick, but Rose knew she had the edge on her in manoeuvrability. Out of all the others there was only a young girl – first or second year only by her looks – that had any real potential.

Still no Albus though, Rose was beginning to worry and she scanned the crowd and leaned over to see if he was tucked in below her.

“Looking for Albus?” Scorpius asked, from the other side of Dawnsfirstbloom. “I heard the Ravenclaw captain ask him to wait in the change rooms till she called for him.” At Rose’s questioning frown, he answered, “So he wouldn’t see all the tricks that she was going to perpetrate, and hence receive any advantage.”

“Fair enough,” Rose said, because the Ravenclaw captain did have a few tricks up her sleeves. There was an extra person up in the air with her during the seeker try-outs and Rose had wondered what he’d been there for. At first his purpose wasn’t apparent; Jen and another boy would throw out the golf balls in turn, just as Olivia and Kylie had yesterday. Then after a few normal throws for each, the third boy would come into play; using a hover charm or the like, he would cause the ball to move around in its path to the ground. Because he didn’t move that much from his position, he couldn’t vary the lateral or horizontal movement of the ball only it’s vertical, but it still made for some interesting variations in a ball’s flight. Of all of the seekers till now only the incumbent had managed to catch a golf ball that had been moved around, and even then she’d only caught one.

Finally Albus was called for and Rose could see and feel the crowd responding when his name was shouted out. _‘Wow,’_ Rose thought, _‘the word had really gotten around.’_

The first throw from the Ravenclaw captain was fairly straight forward and Albus got it with ease; same with the next, a hard and fast one from the other boy. For all the other hopefuls, there had been another two normal throws, but for Albus it was on the third one that the other boy came into play. Albus had wondered about the almost easy catch that he’d been given till he was about to grab the ball and at that last second it had whipped upwards. The whole crowd could see he wasn’t expecting it to happen at all, but in an amazing feat of dexterity he whipped his other hand off the broom (so that for a few seconds he was flying without gripping the broom with either hand) and flung his arm upwards, on instinct alone, and caught it.

He threw the golf ball up in the air and caught it a few times as he looked at the Ravenclaw captain, smiled and nodded his acceptance at her of the ploy. It was also a goad, basically saying, ‘bring it on.’

The next few throws Albus chased down easily because he didn’t take them for granted and was certain of his placement and positioning before he made the grab for them. For the last throw, Jen abandoned all pretence, as did the two other players, and each of them took out their wands to direct the ball to and fro. The ball zigged and zagged all over the pitch, just like a real snitch. Albus just hunkered down, preforming an aerial ballet of surprising grace; but chase it down he did. When he caught it the gathered crowd went wild; it was obvious he’d made the team.’’

Scorpius turned to Rose, his mouth hanging open, shaking his head from side to side.

In a rare moment of honesty between them, Rose said, “I know. How are we ever going to beat him?”

* * *

**  
So here we have the answer to how Albus is going to get to play and moreover to play for every team. Though it is still early days I wanted to make him take his sorting into every house quite seriously.**

**I pleased my beta, the lovely Carla aka Bittersweetflames, with this chapter. She is a big Albus fan and here was a chapter for her, him showing off his ‘Ravenclaw smarts’. She did a wonderful job, even though it had a lot of sports in it, which is not her fave. In doing so he comes up with a new variation upon the rules of Quidditch … we shall see if that has any ramifications for later on shall we?**

**And we see Stephen the House-elf again. He was such a happy accident of the writing process. He grew out of the need to have an elf, any elf, be brusque to Rose when she first came down to the kitchens. From there his role has expanded and I hope you all like him as much as I do.**

**I posted this chapter a bit sooner than I would have otherwise, because I got another bookmark from someone and I wanted to reward them for the effort. Remember any reviews are most definitely welcome, as well as those lovely little kudo things this site has.**

****


	12. Between the Tryouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we observe a background player's comeuppance.
> 
> A new service comes to Hogwarts thanks to its introduction by Stephen the House-elf; Rose offers some on-the-spot testimony; let the punishment fit the crime; and, Rose encounters something she doesn't like.
> 
> _"Miss Rose Weasley is known to us and I believe her testimony to be fair." and he bowed towards Rose and unseen by most gave her a subtle little wink._

**Note: If I was writing about Fairclough the Bigoted arguing with Stephen the House-elf, and then Roslyn not being able to sit where she wanted to; well then it'd all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec ... Fairclough the Bigoted and Stephen the House-elf are mine, all mine. BWHA HA HA !**

**but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

The main banner and all chapter images have been painted by myself.

* * *

 

** Chapter 12: Between the Tryouts **

 

Amidst the buzz surrounding Albus, only two things of note occurred in the week between the first two Quidditch try-outs and the weekend of the next two. Word of just how good Albus was had gotten around, as well as what was to happen about the new training sessions. Everyone in the castle was eagerly awaiting the advent of the next weekend and the chance to see Albus in action.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

The first incident happened at breakfast on Tuesday morning, just after the Owl mail had been delivered. Rose was nearly finished by the time the owls flew in, as was her wont. After her early morning start and run she would usually eat until the mail came in and take any letters with her back up to her dorm and read them sitting in her dorm-room window. She hadn't had the opportunity to make a cushion for it yet, but a couple of folded up towels would suffice until she could. 

As she was gathering up a letter from home, she heard angry shouting and looked up to see what it was all about. She wasn't the only one, most heads were turned towards the Ravenclaw table. It was that tall boy from Sunday, the one who had rudely demanded service from Stephen and then Honey. He was standing by his table and shouting. 

"Who did it? Come on own up. If I have to track down who did it, I'll hex you into oblivion. Who sent me the dung through the mail?"

It didn't produce the reaction he was hoping for, as titters of laughter spread throughout the hall, as well as the whispers of one student asking another, 'did you do it?'

The boy's anger filled countenance only deepened, but then he was startled, as were most when, with a loud crack, Stephen appeared - standing upon the table in front of him.

"Did the young master call for me? Does the young master not think it fine? Tis the most rarest and the most expensive shit one can find, pure dragon dung it be."

"What!" the boy roared, "What are you talking about you stupid elf?"

"But young sir, I distinctly heard you. You asked of me, 'Get me Shit!' so I does. I looks long and hard for rare shit for the young master. I don't thinks you want normal stuff because you seemed to be full of enough shit already."

The Ravenclaw boy might not have known exactly what was going on, but he knew enough to realise that he'd just been insulted.

"You cheeky little shit," he shouted at Stephen, who just stood in front of him, looking like butter wouldn't melt. The boy had obviously had enough of the little elf's impertinence and drew out his wand and pointed it at Stephen.

Rose wanted to move, wanted to help, but it all happened too quickly. The boy muttered a spell that Rose didn't catch and red light sprayed out of his wand, straight at the elf who hadn't a chance to move, and ...

... and the spell splayed out harmlessly over a shield that sprang up between the boy and the grinning little elf.

"That's enough of that," came a gruff voice from between the tables. 

Rose, already halfway out of her seat, didn't have to see who it was to know the origin of the words, but she kept rising and saw Trevor the Boss with his hand upraised like he'd just snapped his fingers.

With a growl, the Ravenclaw boy turned on the new arrival and pointed his wand at him. Only to have Trevor snap his fingers once again and for the wand to fly out of the boy's grasp.

"Ah, is everything alright?"

Rose looked to her left to see what new player had entered the drama, only to see Uncle Neville walking towards them. He was looking at the tableau before him in bewilderment: the angry Ravenclaw seventh year; Stephen standing upon the table; and finally noticing the presence of Trevor. "Oh, Supervisor Trevor, hello. I'm surprised to see you out of your kitchens during a meal, is everything alright?"

"Professor Longbottom," Trevor said politely, sketching a bow in Uncle Neville's direction, "I was just ..."

But he was rudely interrupted by the tall boy who talked over him. "What are you talking to him for? I'm the one who was slighted, he's just an elf ... ugh, why am I talking to you?" He said with further disgust written all over his face, "I want to speak to my Head of House, or the Headmistress."

Rose saw Uncle Neville exchange a look with Trevor. No words were said aloud, but the look alone clearly said, _'obviously house-elves aren't the only ones he disrespects, clearly the list extends to frumpy Gryffindor Herbology professors too.'_

But she had to give Uncle Neville his due, he looked around and called out, "Fillius, Professor Flitwick, may I have a moment?"

The diminutive professor was soon with them. Before either Uncle Neville or Trevor could speak, the boy opened his mouth. "Professor, this little ..." he was about to swear, but reined it in, "this little run, sent me dung through the mail!"

Flitwick looked up and up at the much taller student in front of him, "hmm, little runt you say, why that would be small indeed. It's lucky that there's no one here who's sensitive about their height, isn't it?"

The boy coloured a bit, but didn't look terribly ashamed.

"Excrement via Owl Post, is this some new service you are offering, supervisor Trevor?" Flitwick asked in amusement. At Trevor's shaken head, Flitwick addressed the elf still stood upon the table. "Is this true, did you send the dung through the mail?"

"Yes your professor-ship, I most certainly did," Stephen said, bowing to Flitwick and grinning the whole time.

"The question I find myself having to ask is why?"

The boy's eyes bulged with incredulity, "Who cares why he did it, he should be punished."

"But surely Mr Fairclough, it is entirely apropos to the situation to find out the reason he sent you the excrement? Why did you?"

Stephen replied, with yet another bow, "why your professor-ship, because he asked me too."

"You dirty little liar," Fairclough shouted at him, "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Dunno, but on Sunday, at the Quidditch, you ordered me to 'get shit,' 'elf get shit'. So, even though I didn't have to, I gets you shit."

"I never said that. I told you to get it, the potatoes, I was pointing at the bowl of mash."

"Oh, I beg your pardon, young master, I must have misheard - so you don't wants the shit anymore, tis finest dragon dung?"

"Of course I don't want it. Sir what are you going to do about him? I want this elf punished, I would have done it myself, but this elf," and he pointed at Trevor, "cast a spell against me when I tried to jinx the other one. I want them both punished."

Up until now Professor Flitwick had been jovially going along with everything, but now he turned serious. "Is what he's saying true?" He asked of Trevor.

Trevor nodded, "Here is the boy's wand," and snapped his fingers and it flew up from the floor where it had come to rest. Flitwick caught it; though he was getting on a bit, his reflexes were still pretty sharp. He muttered, "priori incantatem,' and a pale red stream of light came from the tip. "A stinging jinx," he made some further motion with his wand, "and a strong one too."

"But sir, it's just an elf."

Flitwick looked up at Fairclough and all trace of humour had left his features. He was looking at the boy, but he addressed the other students around him. "Today before you all, you have a prime example of the difference between intelligence and wisdom. Mr. Fairclough is a straight E student, so he must be smart enough, but wisdom ... That is why our founder, Rowena Ravenclaw herself said, 'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."

Fairclough's face reddened and he said, "but it's only a bloody little elf and it deserves worse."

The mere displeasure upon the visage of Flitwick dropped to be replaced with distaste. "A stinging jinx of this strength would hurt a full size human, let alone a house-elf."

"But ... but, he deserved it."

Flitwick was looking at him in sad astonishment and just shook his head as he turned his back on him to address Trevor. "What do you want me to do about this; he is a student of this school and so is not answerable under general wizarding law. His punishment will have to be done within the school."

Fairclough wasn't stupid, despite the evidence to the contrary - he was arrogant and bigoted, but there was a difference between that and outright stupidity. So he understood that Professor Flitwick was talking about punishing him and not the elf. He spluttered in indignation, "but sir, it's just an elf."

Flitwick swung his attention back to the taller boy, with even more disgust upon his face. "Mr. Fairclough, I would suggest you hold your tongue, lest you further enlarge the already spacious hole which you haven't the brains to realise you are now inhabiting. He," and professor Flitwick emphasised the 'he' and pointed at Stephen, "is a free elf and as such has every bit the same value under the law as do you Mr. Fairclough. If this scene had played out, just as it did, but outside these walls there would be a very different outcome, let me tell you. You would definitely be under interrogation by Aurors and most certainly facing time in Azkaban."

The boy looked horrified and astonished and bewildered, all one after the other, "but ... but?"

"Hold your tongue!" Flitwick almost shouted and Fairclough finally got the message and spoke no more.

As Professor Flitwick could see that the boy was now actually going to be silent, he sighed and slumped his shoulders. "What a mess. I must say, Supervisor, that one thinks this incident need not to have escalated as it did. That the actions of your fellow employee did serve to exacerbate the situation."

Trevor began to bristle, but Flitwick continued on, "yes I know he claims provocation and that will ameliorate his guilt in the matter significantly, but I have to say that had he approached the matter of the boy's rudeness towards him through the proper channels, the boy's responses would not have been so severe."

Trevor had stopped bristling and he nodded at Flitwick, "Duly noted Professor, I shall have a word to him and to the rest of my people about appropriate responses and proper channels, but the fact remains that he was provoked."

"Well, that has yet to be established." Flitwick turned to the crowd, "was anyone else there, did anyone overhear the confrontation?"

Rose looked around, but no one else was about to say anything, so she put up her hand like she was in class. "I was there sir, not two meters away from him when it happened; I heard it all."

Flitwick looked at her, "Miss Weasley, well? What is the truth of the matter?"

Rose confirmed that it was basically as both of them had said, that the boy had rudely ordered Stephen around, even though his clothes and his hat marked him as a free elf. "I have to be honest though, I did hear him say, 'pass me it', not what Stephen claims what he heard," Fairclough's face lit up in a grin, "but, I was significantly closer to him than Stephen was and there were a lot of people around, talking and stuff. So it is possible that he might have misheard."

Rose knew that the last was a little white lie; once Fairclough had started loudly demanding things of the elf, the kids all around them had grown silent. It was doubtful to her that Stephen had innocently misheard.

Flitwick said, "Thank you Miss Weasley, is that exceptable?"

There were nods all around, even a begrudging one from Fairclough.

"Yes Professor," Trevor said, "Miss Rose Weasley is known to us and I believe her testimony to be fair." and he bowed towards Rose and unseen by most gave her a subtle little wink.

"So," said Flitwick, "may I address your colleague?" At a nod from Trevor, he said to Stephen, "I have very little doubt as to what you actually heard, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt because your response was very mild. But know, you have made your point; I will ask the Headmistress to speak to the students upon the proper way to address and treat the House-elf staff. I certainly don't want to see this sort of retaliation from you again whilst you are in our employ - or you won't be."

Stephen nodded and looked as contrite as Rose had ever seen him - it frankly didn't look that contrite.

Fairclough's face had registered his astonishment at how he was being somehow blamed for it all, "but sir, through the mail he sent me,"

But Flitwick lost his temper, as he had avoided till now, "Boy! It was some shit in an envelope. You are certainly not the first to receive such through the post and you probably won't be the last."

Flitwick's words proved to be quite prophetic, because in the next few weeks it became a fad to send dung through the mail - dried out stuff of course. It became so common at one point, that everyone began to open their mail with utensils. James made a collection of all the various different scat he could find and (with the help of Professor Dropforged) he preserved them in perspex. Slughorn though, made an announcement one lunchtime and collected all the dragon dung received for use in his seventh year class.

But that was all in the future, in the present Professor Flitwick was staring at Fairclough and shaking his head, "what am I to do with you?"

"Excuse me Professor," Trevor said, "but I have a punishment that would fit the crime."

"I'm sorry Supervisor, but whatever the provocation might be, I simply cannot allow you to jinx a student as punishment."

"You misunderstand me Professor. His attempt to Jinx Stephen was merely the expression of his actual crime, that of dismissing as nothing the value of House-elves and treating a Free Elf like a slave. It is that crime I wish to repay in kind."

Flitwick indrew a breath, "Oh, I see and I believe I can guess what you intend. For how long would it be?"

"A month, unless he hasn't learnt his lesson."

"Very well." Turning, he saw the confusion writ large upon the boy's face. He waved towards the boy, indicating that Trevor should proceed with spelling out the punishment.

"Trainee wizard Fairclough, for the next month all services that the House-elves provide for you shall be withdrawn. We are not inhumane however, you shall still be provided with food."

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Fairclough didn't notice any change till breakfast the next morning when all he received was a bowl of cereal with milk, a glass of pumpkin juice and an apple. No matter what else he loaded onto his plate, it instantly disappeared.

At lunch he was presented with a couple of cuts of cold meat, some salad and bread (no butter). Dinner was much the same. When he protested, Professor Flitwick informed him that food was his by right, but cooking it was a service that the House-elves had withdrawn.

The next day he had a bright idea and ate off a mate's plate and it worked. So for the rest of the day he ate off of all his friends plates and had his usual fare. The day after that though, everyone who had shared with him the previous day had the same bland, unprepared food that Fairclough did. On the next day after that, when all of his mates found their lovely rich food returned to them, Fairclough found no one willing to share with him any more. 

Rose missed most of that, as she had problems of her own - someone had sat in her spot at the Gryffindor table!

 

\--o-O-o--

 

It was a couple of days later, when Fairclough was finding no one would share with him anymore that Rose and Dawnsfirstbloom were late to lunch. Rose had stayed back talking to the teacher about their homework so they were only a few minutes late, but once they reached the Gryffindor table, Rose was brought up short. Someone was sitting in her spot.

''You're in my spot," she said, without any preamble whatsoever.

The older boy, fourth or fifth year in Dawnsfirstbloom's estimation, just said, "what," without even turning around.

"I said you're in my spot," said Rose, now tapping him on the shoulder. He turned in his seat, gave a bit of a double take when he saw her red hair, but he quickly disguised his realisation with a sneer, saying, "what?" again.

Rose sighed in exasperation and began to repeat herself, "I said..."

But the boy interrupted, "I heard you, but I meant, the what the hell? Who the hell do you think you are? This bench is for Gryffindors, the whole of it and anyone of us can sit on it anywhere we like. I don't care if you're a Weasley, you're nothing special."

"But this is my spot!" Rose ventured again, as if it should have been the final word.

It wasn't because the boy said, "I don't see your name on it," and spun back around and began to eat again.

Rose got mad, but there was nothing that she could do except to stomp around to the other side of the table, grabbing Dawnsfirstbloom on the way, and plonking herself down directly opposite the boy. She looked daggers at him while she ate, hardly taking her eyes off him at all; putting the food in her mouth on automatic.

Dawnsfirstbloom knew the boy opposite them was definitely a Gryffindor because she didn't think that she would have been brave enough to just sit there with Rose looking at her like she was looking at the boy. But he remained calmly indifferent. Soon enough he was finished, but he made a show of licking each finger, so it was still a few minutes before he finally got up, pushed his plate from him and left. Rose ducked down under the bench and popped back up in 'her' seat. Dawnsfirstbloom pushed Rose's plate over to her and Rose took it with a nod of thanks, she'd hardly noticed what she was eating before, but now saw it was a selection of vegetable sticks and bread with a variety of things to dip them in - oh yum

Rose was silent for a time. Dawnsfirstbloom just thought she was fuming until she saw the expression on her friends face, _'oh no, she was planning something.'_

Sure enough, waving a celery stick around she said, "I tell you Dawn, that's not going to bloody happen again, I shit you not." She was punctuating her words with the celery stick and splattering around spicy hummus everywhere. "This is my spot and I'm going to sit here every meal I have at the Gryffindor table for the rest of my school life. So do I solemnly swear on Merlin's Mokeskin Posing Pouch!"

Rose's eyes narrowed as she nodded her head in affirmation of her words and then her eyes became unfocused and stared into the middle distance. The hand that had been holding the celery stick in the air slowly dropped to the table. It hunted around the table for the dipping homus, seemingly on it's own without any conscious thought on Rose's part. Having found the homus it made the slow journey back up to Rose's mouth and she took a similarly long and slow and crunching bite. The celery went crunch in Rose's mouth every couple of seconds as she masticated it on automatic - her expression never changing, her focus never waivering. She could have been eating bricks for all the attention she was paying her food.

Dawnsfirstbloom left her in peace, she knew nothing good could come of interrupting Rose when she was like this. She studied the redhead sitting opposite her, munching on one of her own carrots. She was suddenly struck with just how little time she'd known this human. She'd barely spent an hour alone with a human in all her life before Hogwarts and now she'd spent weeks with almost nothing but. And especially this girl. There was something about her, something about this Weasley girl that drew her in. They'd made friends on the train, true, but that had been a friendship of happenstance. Since then the friendship had only deepened and Dawnsfirstbloom found herself barely remembering what life was like without her best friend.

This was a case in point, she knew exactly what was going on in that brainy redheaded-head, not the details, but the process. She didn't need to hear Rose's muttered 'probably have to ask Flitwick, to see if it'll stay that way, hmm?' to confirm her suspicions. Dawnsfirstbloom grinned to herself, rolled her eyes and thought _'here it comes'_

"Come on Dawn," Rose announced, "we're off to the library."

"...we're off to the library," said Dawnsfirstbloom at the same time as Rose, but Rose didn't even notice as she gathered up her stuff and led the way out of the Great Hall, with the little goblin girl trailing in her wake.

* * *

**NOTE: Well here is the latest chapter. I had written on further than this and had to scramble back and write this chapter and the next one to bridge the gap between what you have read and what is to come. You see my wonderful beta, Carla of the Bittersweetflames, had caused me to remove an entire chapter from my story; by the simple expedient of pointing out that, unless I specifically wanted to change things around, Care of Magical Creatures lessons began in Third year and not in First year.**

**So you will have to wait for the drama and excitement of that lesson - and believe me it has both - for when our tale enters the Third year of our protagonist's schooling. Unfortunately it contained some of the elements of this chapter and they had to be re-written, and the section about Fairclough had to be expanded, for them to fit in.**

**I hope you all like it. At least it gave me another excuse to bring out Stephen again - a character who is a joy to write. I was also able to give Professor Flitwick a go too and I hope that I succeeded in doing his voice and character justice.**

**As always, any and all comments are much appreciated. I had to post this, because I got another wonderful comment from some randomly, wonderful stranger. As well, I'd like to thank Beeezie, who has ported over a lot of her wonderful reviews from the HPFF site. Thank you to both.  
**


	13. How to Win Friends and Influence People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our major protagonist gets her way.
> 
> Scorpius proves his worth; a new and honorary member of the House of Slytherin; the repeat of an event that results in a far different outcome; the secret to not making enemies.
> 
> _He took in her silence and raised one eyebrow. Goaded into saying something, anything, by that questioning eyebrow, she said, "Well, I guess I'll have some good competition this year at least."_

**Note: If I was writing about Albert and Serpens vying for a place upon the Sly House team and then Roslyn arguing with Bertie Houndswagger; well then it'd all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec ... Bertie Houndswagger is mine, all mine. BWHA HA HA ! (though to be fair, Bertie is not a particularly wonderful creation and probably will not be getting a Guernsey after this particular chapter).**

**but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

The main banner and all chapter images have been painted by myself.

* * *

** Chapter 13: How to Win Friends and Influence People **

 

It was going to be a tricky charm.

Flitwick had confirmed it and had given her a few tips and tricks that would help her out. She didn't tell him exactly what she was going to do with the charm and he was too wise to enquire too closely. So she practiced and practiced because she wanted to get it right. All her spare time - all that she had outside of her classes and her jogging and her homework and eating and sleeping that is - she spent practicing the spell. The only break she got was when they went down to the Quidditch pitch on Saturday and Sunday to watch the Hufflepuff and Slytherin try-outs.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

The two try-outs all went pretty much as expected. The Hufflepuff captain was surprised that a fair amount of talent did come out of the woodwork. It was all raw and mostly untested and untrained, but in a few years time they would be a good team. For now though, she knew she was the bottom of the heap, her players needed a lot more experience and training (and practice) before they could offer a serious threat to the other three houses. One thing that came out in her favour, though, was the seeker position. 

She did and didn't already have a seeker. The girl she had was in seventh year this year and had said, straight out when she'd joined, that she wouldn't let Quidditch interfere with her studies for her NEWTs. As there were a total of six games throughout the year for the House Cup, Albus would play one game for each of the houses, but would have to double up for the other two remaining games. The Hufflepuff captain was overjoyed that she was going to get Albus twice - it would make up for a lot of the rest of her team's lack of experience and ability. The old seeker agreed to play the single other game.

She had used the same trick that the Ravenclaw captain had, of having a third player there to move the golf ball around in the air to make it difficult for the Seeker hopefuls to catch. It didn't phase Albus though, and he again made every catch. The Slytherin tryouts were different because the captain came from considerable money; consequently, he had a real snitch for the try-outs. He kept releasing it and getting it back all throughout the day - even amongst the try-outs for the other positions. So as the chasers were trying to score, as the beaters were trying to hit their targets, the seeker hopefuls wove in and out of the other players trying to catch the snitch. Albus was in his element, but it didn't always go his way - there were a fair few trying out for the position after all. Mostly though the snitch was caught by him - he caught it more times than all the other hopefuls put together. 

Rose was watching her cousin and cheering him on, but she found herself, more often than not, watching another certain blonde-headed, first-year seeker hopeful. He hadn't said much to Rose directly, but from what Albus had said at that meeting with the captains, Scorpius must have said to him that he was a good contender. Rose could certainly believe it now, watching him fly. He was a very good flyer. He sat on a pretty good broom that his daddy's fortune had bought him, that helped, but it didn't take away from his natural talent.

Rose's object of fascination wasn't missed by Dawnsfirstbloom, much to her amusement. Rose was so entranced by ... the play, that she didn't notice the almost permanent smirk that lay across her friend's features.

Albus may have caught the snitch the most, but Scorpius was next after him, and was the only one of the other hopefuls that had caught the snitch more than once. The Slytherin captain had made Albus sit out for a while, and he came and joined Rose and Dawnsfirstbloom in the stands. When he joined them he told them that the captain had said that he'd definitely made the team - he just needed to sort through the rest for their other seeker. Without Albus around, it didn't take long for Scorpius to prove that the two catches he'd made before were not just flukes. He out classed all the remaining hopefuls and easily gained the second spot.

When it was all over, Scorpius joined them in the stands and was congratulated warmly by his friend. Dawnsfirstbloom also heartily congratulated him - 'I liked it when you got it from right beside that other guy's 'ead. The silly berk couldn't see it for looking.' Scorpius was all smiles and genuinely happy, and when Dawnsfirstbloom started talking to Albus, he turned towards Rose. The sheer happiness of his features took her aback. She was put off for a moment and couldn't think of what to say. He took in her silence and raised one eyebrow. Goaded into saying something, anything, by that questioning eyebrow, she said, "Well, I guess I'll have some good competition this year at least."

He gave her a winning smile and, without any trace of that normal superciliousness of manner that he adopted around some people (especially her), he said, "Thank you Rose."

Luckily, everyone's attention was drawn to the magically enhanced voice of the Slytherin captain and he didn't see the violent blush that suffused her visage, which it did - for some reason that Rose truly didn't understand.

"I'd like to thank the House-elves of Hogwarts for all they have done for us this weekend. They have provided us with these beautiful lunches and in a much different setting than they are used to." He led the crowd in applause that caused a few of the elves to scurry away in embarrassment, but a fair few took their bows and curtseys acknowledging the crowd's thanks. The captain continued, "Especially one elf who has kept us all amused with his antics. And, of course, I speak of Stephen." There was another surge in applause and the little elf snatched off his hat and took exaggerated and florid bows.

"Stephen, I know you didn't select your hat because it was a Slytherin one, instead you did so because it had a large ‘S’ upon it, but we would like to make it official." From out of a pocket, he pulled out a small scarf in the Slytherin colours and held it out to the elf. As Stephen walked towards him he continued to say, "from your behaviour here, and certain other behaviours observed over the course of the last few weeks," there was laughter, "we believe that you uphold all the values that we in Slytherin house hold dear and we would like to make you an honorary member of our house."

Stephen got to him and took the scarf. He held up one of his hands for a high-five. The captain squatted down and returned the high-five, then Steven put his hand down for 'one down low.' The boy went to slap the proffered hand, but Stephen whipped his hand away at the last minute saying, "too slow." With the scarf in one hand he shot his collar and sauntered from the stadium to gales of laughter, led by the captain.

As they were walking back to the castle, Rose asked, "what I don't understand, is how he knew about that?" Referring to the captain's knowledge of why Stephen selected the hat.

It was Albus who replied, "We were in the common room, Scorp and I, and we overheard him and a bunch of other seventh years talking about what that idiot Fairclough had done. You see, a lot of those guys are from some of the old pureblood families and they know that you don't talk to House-elves like that anymore. They were congratulating the Slytherin elf on what he'd done, when Scorp here pipes up and says, 'He is not the Slytherin elf, his name is Stephen." Albus' impression of Scorpius was pretty spot on. "The older kids turned on him and demanded to know how he knew it. So he says, 'I only know that when he came to select the hat he did so only because the S worked into the knitting stood for Stephen. He did not attach any significance to the Slytherin colours at all." Scorpius laughed at the impression of himself and pushed his mate on the arm. Albus was laughing, but he finished by saying, "but how Scorp knew that, I don't know."

Scorpius rapidly changed the subject with a, "wonder what's for dinner," and increased his pace. Not once for the rest of their journey back to the castle did he turn and meet Rose's accusatory glare.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Rose kept practising the charm and once she was happy enough she tried it out on her own bed. A few tries later and she thought she'd gotten the hang of it. Enough so that she had a go, with a slight but necessary modification to the charm, and used it upon Dawn's bed. She didn't let on that she'd done anything, she would let the little goblin discover it for herself in the fullness of time.

The next morning she cut short her run, had a hasty shower and sprinted back to the Great Hall so that she would have time to do what she had to and not be disturbed. Initially she thought it had worked and she was alone, but she caught a muffled sound and when she craned her neck up she saw a familiar hat bobbing up and down between the house tables. Into the silence she said, "How's it going, Stephen?"

The hat stopped it's bobbing and turned in her direction. It rose slightly and revealed a large pair of eyes that just managed to peek over the tables between them and meet her own. It paused then descended back below the level of the tables, presumably back to doing whatever it was doing before. It's owner's voice however drifted back to Rose. "Suppose 'm OK. As OK as I can be cleaning up after you lot."

Rose could tell from his tone that it wasn't nastily meant and she grinned. "Loved your performances at the other tryouts, What you did with the pumpkin salad on Sunday was particularly inspired. I'm grateful to you for disposing of it."

Rose had said the words out into the empty air and she was surprised by the sudden appearance of Stephen in front of her - he hadn't apparated, just must have quickly snuck closer to her. He'd done it to deliberately throw her off balance, and it had worked. The surprise of it didn't upset Rose, however, and she grinned at him acknowledging the point. He looked up at her appraisingly, studying her features and said, "I appreciates your appreciation," then giving her a respectful nod he added, "Miss."

From her past dealings with him she knew what a mark of respect it was and correctly guessed that it was his way of opening the door to friendliness. "I liked what you did to that arrogant pig of a Ravenclaw."

"Miss Rose, I have to say that I enjoyed it a whole lot more. Have you heard the latest?" Rose shook her head no and he was almost gleeful when he said, "Well, after him trying to eat off his friend's plates, you heard about that didn't ya, it happened last week?" Rose nodded. “Now, not even a week has gone past and he's had enough of cold meals hasn't he? So he gets another idea and bullies a first year into letting him eat from her plate. Halfway through the meal, Supervisor Trevor pops up in front of him and informs him that his punishment's extended till Halloween."

Rose had to laugh, picking on a first year and a girl, it served him right. She looked at Stephen and a thought came to mind, "you know Stephen, I'll be making more hats, I don't suppose," but she didn't get a chance to finish.

"Black one. Black one with green trimming and a green pom pom on top, so I'll have another when this one's in the wash." Remembering his politeness at the last he added, "please, Miss Rose."

"Sure thing," still smiling she repeated the order, "Black with green trimmings."

"Don't forget the S, mind," Stephen said sternly.

Rose smiled back at him, "Stephen, I can solemnly swear, that every hat I ever make for you will always have an S on it."

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Stephen had gone shortly after watching her perform the spell. He had laughed uproariously at her explanation for doing it. He'd even given her a high five, which she knew was a rare treat, but when he held his hand for a low five, Rose just shook her head at him with a knowing grin. Stephen disapparated with a laugh and a crack.

It wasn't till weeks later that Rose had reason to make use of what she'd gone to all the trouble of practicing and then executing. Again it happened because she was late down from a class - asking a teacher to explain a point she felt he'd glossed over.

There, in her seat, was the same boy; munching away happily, tearing the meat off the rib bone he was holding in both hands. He didn't know the world of pain and discontent he'd let himself in for.

Rose marched over to him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, but you're in my seat. Again."

He turned slightly and gave her a contemptuous _'you again?'_ look and went back to eating.

She breathed deeply, giving him a second chance. Uncle Harry had always impressed that upon her (and Albus too) - _'always give someone a chance Rosie, and then always give them a second chance too.'_

So, after another deep breath she said, "I've been sitting there for all my meals here and I want to sit in the same place every time I have a meal at the Gryffindor table," hoping that honesty and politeness would make her case.

He didn't even look up, "piss off Weasley. I said before, it ain't got your name on it."

Well she'd given him his chance and he'd just given her the opening she'd needed. "Well, you better have another look then." He gave her a narrow eyed look and so she added, "on the bench. Look."

"What," he said with a sneer, "written your name on it have you, or carved it in?"

"Look!" Rose commanded.

He tried to just sit up slightly, but he couldn't see so he had to stand with one foot on either side of the bench to look down at it properly. He was taken aback and impressed in spite of himself, but he wasn't going to lose face to a first year girl. "Don't mean nothing."

Rose wasn’t going to correct his double negative, though she was sorely tempted - it would serve no good purpose at the moment. She crowded closer to him, saying, “You’ve seen this is my seat, so please move.”

“I said I don’t care Weasley, so push off,” and because she was getting too close he gave her a shove.

Just as she was hoping he would; he elevated it to the physical level, although he didn’t hit her. So she had to give him that, he did have some manners and morals after all and wouldn’t hit a younger person and a girl. So Rose would in turn treat him well … reasonably well: it wouldn’t stop all the pain that was about to come his way, but she would allow him to retain some dignity.

She moved in on him again, leaving her arms down at her sides, to provoke him into pushing her in the shoulder again. As her sensei had said, “happy the combatant who knows exactly what their opponent will do because then you know exactly how to counter it.”

Sure enough, he went to push her again. “I said ...” was all he got out as his hand touched her shoulder and she went into action. She brought her left hand up and trapped his hand on her right shoulder and turned just as he was pushing - using his force to tilt him forward and off balance. He did what anyone would do and pulled back. Rose moved with him, again using his own strength against him. She kept hold of his hand as he moved and twisted it upwards so that instead of remaining upright, his head and torso crashed down onto the bench.

She nearly lost control of him then. The grease on his hand from the ribs nearly lost her her purchase, but she grabbed his hand with both of hers and gave it a vicious twist with a, “no you don’t.” For the extra control she needed she also dug her right knee into his kidney. He was effectively immobilised: his legs were on either side of the bench and he couldn’t kick out at her; and every time he tried to move or raise his face - which was pressed down onto the benchtop - Rose would dig her knee in and twist his arm again that she held at nearly right angles behind him. His palm was twisted around so that it faced the back of his head and it took only the slightest of pressure to inflict excruciating pain.

He stopped struggling when he knew it was helpless.

“Right!” Rose said sternly when she knew he’d given up. “Now.” She applied some pressure and made him slide himself down the bench until she had his head where she wanted it. “So what does it say there? Obviously you can’t read properly so I’ll spell it out for you. R. O. S. E. Rose. This is my spot, you can sit yourself anywhere else. In fact you’ve won, that’s right; we've had this little confrontation and you’ve actually won. As your reward you get to sit anywhere else on the Gryffindor bench you like and I will have to stay here, only on this one spot.”

“Now, I’m not going to rub it in and say, ‘you were beaten by a girl.’ No, because that’s demeaning to both you and me. I’m not even going to go on about me being years younger. Nope, a girl can beat a boy, a boy can beat a girl, it just depends on skill. So remember that - you were beaten by someone more skillful than you. So if you want to try to get back at me, that’s what you have to remember. Yeah, sure, you could try to surprise me, get me when I wasn’t expecting it and you’d probably succeed, but then, afterwards, I’d get you again, and because I’m more skilful, I’d win. OK?”

With that she released him and stepped back, assuming a defensive pose. He just flopped onto the bench, relieved that the pain had stopped. He gathered up his bag with his other hand as he sat up. His face was dark with anger and there were unshed tears in his eyes. He flicked a furious glance at Rose and left the Hall.

Rose gathered up her bag and plonked herself down in **her** spot, shoved the boy’s plate away and began to load up her own.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

There were a fair few witnesses to the event. The majority of them all thought the same thing - _‘remind me never to sit in Rose Weasley’s spot.’_

Luckily for Rose, Albus thought, that no teachers saw the confrontation because he didn’t think she would be sitting there so sanguinely, consuming her meal; detention would have been the least of her punishments. But she was the luckiest because he had witnessed the entirety of it; from Rose tapping the older boy upon the shoulder to him running off. He wondered where Dawnsfirstbloom was, she was normally a calming influence upon his cousin.

Rose was lucky that he saw it because he knew something that she didn’t. He would be the first to admit that that was a reasonably rare thing in itself, but what he knew was ‘the secret of how not to make enemies.’ And he was positive that it was something that Rose didn’t know. Rose did know that she had made an enemy. That’s what all the stuff she’d said at the end was about - trying to head off any future retaliation. But she didn’t know the secret to not making an enemy in the first place. To call it a secret though, Albus knew, was to grossly abuse the meaning of the word secret. It was obvious and plain for all to see, or so it should be, but there were a lot of otherwise smart people (like Rose) who obviously didn’t know it, so secret it must be.

The secret to not making enemies ...

... was to make friends.

Pretty simple really. And what’s more, Albus had discovered, you didn’t even have to do it yourself.

To that purpose he loudly related the entirety of the altercation to one of his Gryffindor dorm-mates that evening while they were seated in the Gryffindor common room. He made sure that the conversation was loud enough to be overheard by his brother.

It worked. The very next day found Rose’s ‘spot thief’ sitting alone, half way along the Gryffindor table. Albus had noticed that he was a bit of a loner anyway and Albus had surmised that one of the reasons he’d taken Rose’s spot was because he was looking for somewhere to sit where he didn’t feel so alone and uncomfortable. Albus took a seat and waited for the drama to unfold.

“There he is,” cried James, upon entering the Great Hall. He marched over to the other side of the table from the boy. He’d directed his first comment to Fred who’d come in with him and who had moved to the other side of the house table and now stood alongside the seated boy. “It was you wasn’t it, that tried to take Rose’s seat and then got beaten up by her?”

The boy stopped eating and looked at the two newcomers warily. He wasn’t used to attracting so much attention. “Yeah,” he said slowly and cautiously.

“Ha!” Barked James, “join the club. What’s your name?”

“Um, Betie Houndswagger.”

“Ha, no wonder you get picked on by girls.” This didn’t seem to cheer Bertie up, especially when James went on to say, “my problem is that I’m irresistible to women.” Bertie actually began to scowl but it froze upon his face and began to turn to wry amusement when James added, “True. Irresistible to women’s fists and slaps and kicks in the shin.”

“You've gotten kicked in the arse a few times too; remember?” supplied Fred helpfully.

“Oh, yeah, I should have remembered that my arse is especially irresistible. But speaking of Freddo over there, his problem is that he’s just simply annoying.”

Fred who was still standing to the side of Bertie, straightened up, with his eyes closed and a smug grin on his face. He threw up an arm, like he was being counted, “Guilty as charged, your honour.” He sat down next to Bertie and slapped him on the shoulder. “Welcome to the club, I think most every male we know in our extended family has been beaten up by Rose at least once.”

“Yeah, except…” James supplied and then paused as he looked around until he caught sight of Albus a table over. “Albus, you’ve never been the victim of Rose have you?”

“Certainly not.”

“Wimp!” James shot back.

“No. I just know better than to poke a sleeping bear. You know Rose is all sweetness and light unless you upset her.”

James considered it for a moment, then went, “Bah, you’re just playing it safe. Not like us and Bertie; we’re not afraid to live.”

Albus left them talking to Bertie Houndswagger - it really was an unfortunate name - and as he walked away he thought, ‘at least I’ve done my best.’ He’d done as his father had always said to do, give someone a second chance. Albus didn’t know why Bertie was such a loner. His actions didn’t speak well as to his character. He’d been a bit obnoxious towards Rose, even though she hadn’t exactly helped. And what was he doing there in the first place? If he was just trying to find somewhere to sit, then fine. But if he was trying to find somewhere he didn’t feel so awkward and he thought the easiest place was to take it from a bunch of first year girls, then that was a different matter. Maybe though, Bertie had never gotten a chance. Only time would tell. He had now a second chance, being drawn to the positive attention of James and Fred. And whatever else their faults may have been, the pair of them were fairly astute judges of character. If Bertie failed with them then he didn’t deserve anyone else.

As Albus left the hall, he went past the end of the Gryffindor table. Rose’s spot was vacant, as Rose was somewhere else and Albus didn’t think there was anyone in the castle who hadn’t heard about the events of yesterday. So he doubted that anyone besides Rose would be game enough to sit there. Ever.

He stopped and regarded the bench seat. He really had to admire Rose’s skill and her literal-mindedness sometimes, he thought. There were two conveniently situated knots in the grain of the wood right where Rose sat. Using them and some sort of charm presumably, she had changed the very grain of the wood itself. So now, as if it had always been there - as if the tree the wood had come from had grown that way - the grain of the wood wound around itself to spell out a single word: 

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello again everyone.**

**Here we have the final part of the Quidditch tryouts, and it's good to see that Scorpius has proved his worth. We also have the result of the events that Bertie Houndswagger (it really is an unfortunate name) put into motion when he sat in Rose's spot. I don't know what effect it will have upon the character of Rose to always get her own way; I suppose that only time will tell on that point.**

**As always any and all reviews are greatfully appreciated - even if it is only to say that you thought it was good or bad and what bit you liked the most/least. And, again as always, I must thank my wonderful beta, Carla of the Bittersweetflames. She had a bit of a break recently from the HPFF's and I feared that she had been taken by a rampaging manticore, luckily for us all that was not the case and she had only been temporarily taken from us by a rampaging illness. She is back, thankfully, and betaing on.**

**All reviews and comments are welcome, no matter what they contain: critique, criticism, censure or compliments.  
**


	14. Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which one of our major players gets to play as Seeker in the first House Cup game of the year.
> 
> Certain teaching techniques are explained; Another reason to have Quidditch reserves; Madame Cleansweep is taken aback; The After Game Party as an indicator of human nature.
> 
> _When the cheering started to abate, Dawnsfirstbloom said, "So is that it? Is that Quidditch then? Seems like a lot of fuss for nothing much."_

**Note: If I was writing about Albert playing his first game of the House Cup, and Roslyn’s experiences at her first Grufflion after party; well then it'd all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec ... sigh ...**

**but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

The banner and all chapter images were painted by myself.

* * *

Chapter 14: Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw

 

The weeks marched on and in the lead up to Halloween there was one thing looming large on everyone's radar - the first Quidditch game of the year.

Everything else was just ticking along. Rose was powering through her lessons, that were all going better than good. In fact, in Transfiguration, Rose had started attempting nonverbal spells; with some mixed results, but it had been effective more often than not. It had all been down to Headmistress McGonagall's encouragements. One lesson, she had looked over at how easily Rose had conquered her latest task and had no real extension work that Rose could attempt for the rest of the lesson (as she normally did), instead she had paused by Rose's desk with her face tight in contemplation. A decision must have been reached, however, because she suddenly told Rose to try the spell without saying it aloud, adding, "I sometimes wonder why, with witches and wizards of a certain calibre, we don't start out with nonverbal spells in the first place? Why start someone on the path of bad habits, that you only want to break them of in the future?"

So McGonagall had started her off with a few hints and tips. Trying to say the spell under her her breath, then sub-vocalising it, before finally trying to just ‘think’ the spell word.

"You will find, Rose," she had said, "that no matter your talent or skill or practice, that there will be some spells you will never be able to achieve without saying the word aloud. Some spells are so wrapped up in the word, so intrinsically bound with the syllables being vocalised, that they simply will not work non-verbally."

Rose kept trying, and as the weeks wore on she found she could do her spells non-verbally more and more often. Well, her Transfiguration ones at least. Her Charms work still caused her some consternation, but she always mastered them in the end. She'd discovered the 'secret' to charms - think like a Slytherin - and she still said it to herself every time she learnt a new charm. Actually she didn't exactly think, _'think like a Slytherin'_ , it would be more accurate to say she thought, _'think like Malfoy'._ But she wouldn't admit that to anyone, not even herself.

All the rest of the stuff marched along and the only thing to change the sameness of it all was Quidditch. It was decided that the ‘Albus’ practices (a label that someone had attached to them and had now stuck) would start after the first proper House Cup game. The first game was to be Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw. Up until then, Albus was only going to train with Gryffindor, so that the other practice regime would not be needed till then. It also gave all the captains the opportunity to sort out the schedule, get it approved and, more importantly, make it fair for everyone.

So some of Rose's nights were taken over with training, even though she knew that she wouldn't fly onto the field with the team come game day. Olivia explained their strategy to the team and particularly to Albus at one of their training sessions.

"OK, here's how I think it'll stand. The Claw chasers are basically the same as our chaser line up - two of the same from last year and one new chaser - just like us. And we know how good the older two are, from playing against them last year, so I'm fairly sure that we're going to be evenly matched."

"OK, so here's what we'll do. Give it to a couple of goals and see how it's going. If we've got the upper hand, then drag it out and let us build up the score. But, yeah, I seriously doubt that's how it'll go - I know they're equal to us. So in that case, and I know it will be that case..."

"Yeah, yeah captain," interrupted James, "we know you have no faith in your chasers, we won't hold a grudge."

"OK James, that's enough," but the rebuke wasn't serious and the whole team was smiling along with them both. "So, Albus, I'll give you a signal or you can use your own judgement and then catch the snitch as soon as possible. This game is going to be a snitch catch plus one or two goals either way, I can feel it. So we may as well leave Ravenclaw on next to nothing to start off their season."

Olivia had taken Rose and the other reserves aside and said to them. "OK, I've looked up the rules and you all know that replacements are not allowed in a game, yeah? But that's only once you're in the game and the game only officially starts once the ref releases the quaffle. Not before, not when she blows the whistle, but when she releases the quaffle. So yeah, she blows the whistle, checks that everything is OK, then releases the quaffle and the game starts. What can happen is that, if she thinks something is not OK, she can blow the whistle before she releases the quaffle, and stop the whole game before it's even started."

"So why I say all this, is that I want you all there, kitted up, brooms in hands, ready to go if anything happens to one of the players. It happened to Ravenclaw last year, that's why I looked the rules up. As they were walking out of the change rooms, one of their chasers tripped over a broom that had been left propped up against the wall. He fell over, the clumsy berk, sprained his wrist but still went on. He was useless the whole game, they ended up losing by heaps and that's why Ravenclaw was behind the whole season. Well, that's not going to happen to us - I'll be merciless; if anything happens to anyone, up until the quaffle is released, off they'll go and on will come one of you. There is a reason for having all of you reserves."

 

\--o-O-o--

 

So there was Rose, with all the others, dressed up in her Quidditch robes, half hoping, half not, as the announcer read out the names of the Gryffindor team as they walked out onto the pitch with their brooms, mounted them and flew to their positions. The whistle blew and Rose watched Madam Cleansweep intently (as did all the other reserves) look around the field. It felt like no time and an eternity before she released the quaffle with a quick flick of her wrist. The quaffle rose gracefully up through the air and the game was on.

Rose looked around at her fellow reserves, they all had the same expression on their faces as, no doubt, did she: a look of happiness mixed with slight disappointment. She shrugged at Evan Thomas, one of the reserve beaters, "Oh well, there's always next time."

Another of the reserves said, "At least you know you'll get to play next time." Leaving unsaid that all of the rest of them were never likely to have a proper House Cup game that year.

A bit cluelessly, Rose said, "Hey yeah, that's right," in a perky manner, but then she noticed the uncomfortable atmosphere and looks she was getting and bid them all a hasty good bye. "Well, um, my friend is holding me a spot in the stands, um, see you all later." The rest of the reserves just plonked themselves down on the benches outside the change rooms to watch the match. Rose didn't bother getting changed - she was wearing Gryffindor colours after all - and trudged up the steep stairs to where Dawnsfirstbloom said she'd be. Dawn had arrived earlier, around the time when the rest of the team had, so that she could pick her choice of spot and save Rose a seat.

Even though the stands were packed for the first game of the season, Dawnsfirstbloom had no trouble saving a spot. All she had to do was say the magic words, 'this is Rose Weasley's spot,' and after that, and the events of the other week, no one was willing to violate the sanctity of Rose's spot. In fact the vacant gap beside Dawnsfirstbloom was huge - people left extra space just to be sure. 

As Rose trudged up the stairs in her heavy Quidditch gear, she heard the commentator get excited and turned around just in time to miss seeing Gryffindor score the first goal of the match.

Ten, Nil.

She kept walking and before she reached her goal, she once again heard the commentator's voice rise in excitement. So she quickly turned around and this time caught the tail end of a beautiful play by the Ravenclaw chasers which left James totally out of position and Olivia guarding the wrong hoop.

Ten all.

She'd just reached her spot and Dawnsfirstbloom waved her down and out of the way so the little goblin could still see the play, when the next goal was scored. She saw the entirety of it this time: James had his revenge by faking out one of the opposing chasers and leaving an unobstructed path to the Ravenclaw hoops.

Twenty, ten to Gryffindor.

As the teams lined up and began to resume play, Rose could see Olivia trying to signal Albus. She needn't have bothered: Albus was already in full-on serious mode, whizzing about the pitch on the hunt for the snitch.

The Ravenclaw chasers were positioning themselves for another play. Rose wasn't sure what it was - they were just passing the quaffle back and forth and seemingly looking for an opening. Then a well aimed bludger carromed out of nowhere causing two of the Gryffindor chasers to move out of position slightly. Out of the chaos and indecision of how the Ravenclaw chasers had been acting, suddenly a whole formation coalesced. Rose could see how clever the whole thing was and a goal was assured until, at the last minute, from nowhere himself, Albus zig-zagged through the Ravenclaw formation, upsetting it crucially; resulting in the quaffle returning to Gryffindor hands.

The Ravenclaw seeker had been caught completely flat-footed. Albus had peeled away from him and had flown into the chaser's formation before he'd even known he had gone. He couldn't hope to follow him and didn't. Instead he put on speed and started patrolling the pitch, especially in the light of what Albus was doing.

Because Albus was doing something strange. Everyone else had retreated to their positions for the restart of play, but not Albus. He left the other seeker to his own devices, searching and hunting around for the snitch, and instead flew up to Madam Cleansweep and hovered beside her. Rose noticed and her overly loud, "what the hell's he doing?" alerted those who hadn't noticed before to his strange behaviour.

Madam Cleansweep's voice had been magically amplified, not as loud as the commentator's, but enough so that the crowd could hear her calls. So now the crowd was witness to a one-sided conversation.

"What do you want Mr Potter?"

Something unintelligible from Albus.

"Well, it'll have to wait, I'm busy."

The commentator voiced what a lot of the people in the stands around Rose must have been thinking. "Looks like the new Gryffindor seeker has better things to do than to hunt for the snitch, unlike his Ravenclaw counterpart. It might not matter because in a superb bit of shepherding, James clears the way for Andromeda to make a run for the goals and … SHE SCORES! Thirty ten for Gryffindor."

The crowd’s attention was caught by the goal and the Gryffindors all cheered, but the cheering died down and stopped as their attention was brought back to the referee when they heard her say, "Alright, Mr Potter, just what is so important?"

Albus must have said something and done something too, but his body shielded what it was, his distance and his position relative to the crowd didn’t help either. But the crowd weren't left in suspense for long as they heard Madam Cleansweep screech, "IT'S THE SNITCH, Potter has caught ..." but she remembered her job and blew her whistle.

The crowd was almost silent for a moment, but when it realised what had just happened it went wild: first with cheering then with laughter at Albus' actions. On the pitch the team was flying up to surround Albus.

Rose rolled her eyes with a, "bloody Albus," but soon she was cheering along with all the others at Gryffindor's win. When the noise started to abate, Dawnsfirstbloom said, "So is that it? Is that Quidditch then? Seems like a lot of fuss for something that's over so quickly." When Rose told her that most matches went on for hours, some were known to last for days, Dawnsfirstbloom said, "What!? Ok, I'll believe it if you say so, but pfft. Though, I didn't mind those guys with the clubs, what did you call them again? Beaters? Yeah, those guys, I liked that."

They made their way down to the ground and Dawnsfirstbloom waited while Rose changed and then they both made their way back up to the castle and the obligatory Gryffindor common room party.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Rose was amused by the dispositions of the quidditch players throughout the room. Olivia was standing by the fireplace and holding court: going over the game and talking general Quidditch with a gaggle of other students. James was sitting on a couch with two girls; Fred was in a similar position in an armchair with one girl on his lap and another one on the arm of the chair and her arm around his shoulders. Rose couldn't see the new chaser, but the other one, Kylie, was flirting - just as badly as James and Fred were - with a pair of boys of her own. They were standing, drinking butterbeers together and she would touch this one's forearm and then that one's shoulder and so on. Rose's initial assessment had been correct then, she was just like a female version of James.

The big beater on the other hand hadn't wasted any time with that flirty nonsense and was pashing someone fervently in a darkened alcove in the wall. They broke apart to obviously go somewhere more private. The big beater held his hand out for the girl to take, but Rose got a bit of a shock when out from the shadows emerged a slim boy who took the proffered hand and walked away with the taller boy. 'Oh,' Rose thought, she hadn't expected that, 'oh well, to each their own,' she supposed and thought no more of it. Rose was not very bigoted at all, in the main - she wanted to be left alone to make her own decisions and in return she respected the rights of everybody else to do the same. No, there was only one group of people that Rose truly didn’t like and they were rude idiots: to them she showed no mercy. As for the Slytherins, she didn’t see that as a prejudice at all, for her it was just the natural order of things that Gryffindors should look down upon the Slytherins.

She finally caught sight of Albus and once the crowd around him had thinned slightly she approached and punched him in the arm. He immediately whipped around with a big grin on his face knowing it was Rose.

"Bloody show off," she said as his grin went sheepish and he shrugged his shoulders, "you can't tell me you actually saw the snitch and planned the whole thing, I won't believe it for a second."

He threw up his hands, "I cannot tell a lie Rosie, I saw my opportunity to wreck up the play, I knew the snitch was nowhere around so I knew I could give up the chase for a bit. And once I swooped down, there it was, right between two of the chasers - easiest catch I've ever had. Once I caught it though, I knew nobody had seen. So that's when I got the idea to, oh so cas', fly up to Madame Cleensweep." He shrugged again, "I mean when would I ever get a chance to do it like that again."

Rose, with a wry smile, just shook her head at him; she couldn't really blame him either. 

He was looking over her shoulder when his face lit up. "Good, they came."

Rose turned around and through the press of bodies she could see some boys coming through the portrait hole, but there was one in particular who caught her attention. "What's he doing here?" She demanded.

"Now Rosie, don't be like that, he's a nice guy."

"But he's a Slytherin, he doesn't belong in the Gryffindor common room in a Gryffindor victory celebration for Merlin's sake."

"Rose, there are other Slytherins here, and Hufflepuffs too. There's even some Ravenclaws, including their captain - see over there talking to Olivia - and they lost. Surely they should have even less reason to want to come than him."

Rose couldn't say anymore because suddenly he was there, having caught sight of Albus' raised hand. He punched Albus in the arm and said, "You cheeky sod. Only you would do something like that." Then he changed his voice to a falsetto and oddly enough an American accent, "oh Madame Cleensweep, what is this that I've discovered in my hand? Why, I do declare, it appears to be the snitch."

Albus’ laughter and Scorpius' words forced a snort of amusement out of Rose that she had been desperately trying to keep in. Scorpius caught sight of Rose then, and it was obvious from his start of surprise that he had only just done so; the press of bodies and Albus standing in front of her must have shielded her from his view. His whole manner and bearing and tone changed as he bowed to her and addressed her, "Miss Weasley, may I congratulate you on the victory of your team upon the field of play today. With the skill of your team-mates the victory was well earned."

Rose could not tell what annoyed her more: was it his attitude; his air of almost conceited superiority; or even, could it have been his clothes? Everyone else was dressed casually - jeans and t-shirts seemed to be ninety plus percent of the clothes worn by everybody else in attendance. But not him, not Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy in his smart casual, emphasis on the smart - from his perfectly pleated slacks to his immaculate button-up shirt. Then there was his tone of over-familiarity with her cousin - her best-friend-cousin, the one that she'd known all her life but that he'd only known for a matter of weeks. Or was it that he'd done almost the exact same thing as she'd done - punch Albus in the arm and call him on his cheekiness? The last one might have been the closest to the truth, but Rose didn't - couldn’t - admit that to herself.

She felt her hands curling into fists and she was only barely fighting the urge to stomp her foot. She was saved from any intemperate remark or similar action by the sudden appearance of James who blundered into their group and said all the things that Rose wanted to say.

"What the bloody hell's he doing here?"

Albus calmly replied, "I invited him."

"But he's a bloody Slytherin!"

Albus looked pointedly at the girl trapped beneath James' arm, the one he was dragging around as almost an afterthought. "I'm fairly sure that she's from Hufflepuff. Is it the fact that he's from Slytherin that's the problem, or is it that he's not a girl for you to hit on that you don't like?"

The girl slipped out of his arm and fled the little family squabble. That pissed James off even more, "I don't see so many other Slytherins."

Rose looked around, she was fairly sure she'd seen some around before, but when she did now the common room was much emptier than it had been only moments before - she could have sworn it had been chock-a-block with people. It seemed that most of the older kids had disappeared.

James noticed too. "You're lucky I've got better things to do, otherwise I'd have more to say about you and your little bum chum."

"Don't say that. You know I don't like it" Albus said, but it fell on deaf ears because James' attention was now focused on the almost empty room.

Fred came over, oblivious to the animosity brewing between the two brothers. "We all set Jimmy James? We gonna try and do it then?"

"Yep, got it with me," James said patting a bulge under his shirt that Rose for one hadn't noticed before. "See you later losers, 'cept you Malfoy, I don't want to see you here again." With that, James and Fred climbed out of the portrait hole and left the room.

"Albus, sorry mate, I'll go. I don't want to cause this familial friction."

"Don't be silly, Scorp. It's just James being an arse as usual. Don't worry about it, oh and you lot, don't stress. Stay, he's gone anyway, so ... you know, stay, please stay, it'll be fine." The other boys who'd come in with Scorpius had looked nervous and hesitant about staying, but Albus' words had steadied them. Rose saw the tall black Slytherin boy, and there were a couple of boys who she knew were in Gryffindor - Evan Thomas amongst them - the rest she assumed were from the other houses.

Rose looked around, there were still quite a few people in the room, it just wasn't as packed as it had been before. It seemed that it was all of the older kids who'd disappeared. A gaggle of girls were approaching the boys, all first years and most certainly not all Gryffindors, though they did include in their number Ayesha and Finnegan. They were giggling and holding butterbeers and that was enough for Rose. Dawn had already left for bed, not being so invested in the Quidditch victory. There were also some more boys joining their group and the approaching girls were not enough to tip the balance away from the already dangerous levels of testosterone. Rose could swear that the giggling of the girls only served to further excite the levels of testosterone already present. After the already big day that she'd had it was too much for Rose to stomach, so she sought refuge in her dorm and a good night's sleep.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:  
Again my wonderful beta - Carla of the bittersweetflames - has overcome her illness and adversity and come through for me and edited this chapter. She approved of the use of ‘Caromed’ as a verb but disapproved of another which has been excised and is now gone forever.**

**When I originally set out to write this story, I didn’t know that I was going to have so much Quidditch in it, but there were the chapters with the tryouts, there is this one and I have just written a couple more - sheesh. I hope that they are not too boring for you my dearest readers. I hope that they are enjoyable, action filled and yet still reveal new aspects of the characters of my characters or at least expand upon what you already know of them. If they do, or if they don’t, please feel free to leave a message to me below in that wonderful little review box and I shall be ever grateful.**


	15. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our major protagonist is 'dragged' along to the annual Halloween festivities
> 
> What holidays mean to different people; A discussion of the origins of the band; what happens when you meet a person in a costume party dressed as your enemy; someone has a good time.
> 
> _"Ah, Miss Weasley," someone said from beside her in a falsely deep voice, "I trust that you are enjoying the dance. It is truly a fine distraction for young persons, is it not?"_

**Note: If I was writing about Roslyn and Dawnsfirstbloom attending their first Halloween dance then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**… hey wait a sec, Dawnsfirstbloom is mine, all mine BWHA HA HA!**

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.**

The chapter image is painted by myself and was originally for a request by Beeezie for a Halloween graphic.

* * *

 

Chapter 15: Halloween

 

Halloween was fast approaching and Dawnsfirstbloom was getting more and more excited. 

Rose, not so much. It's not that she didn't like the holiday, she loved it ... well she always had done before, it was just ...

Rose had always celebrated Halloween exactly the same way, for as long as she could remember. Every year she had gone out trick or treating; walking the streets of the town, head held high, proudly dressed up as a witch. She'd stalk the streets with one of Uncle George's fake wands - one of the ones that could shoot coloured sparks out the end. Every year it was the same and the folks handing out the treats would say, 'you a witch again, Rose?' And she'd smugly say back, 'that's because I am a witch,' and shoot sparks out the end of her wand, to the ohh's and ahh's of the neighbours.

Now though it was different and somehow the holiday didn't seem so special. It had been tied up with the desire to just get on and become a witch; the same desire as the one that drove her to don her school robes and wear them to the station to catch the Hogwarts Express. The day hadn't been about dressing up, instead it had been about removing the costume, the one she normally wore, that of a plain and ordinary Muggle. It was the one day that she could reveal to the world who she truly was. But now at school, being a witch, everything she'd loved about the day was sort of gone and over. She laughed to herself, imagining the looks on people's faces if she were to do the same as she'd always done, but now in the halls of Hogwarts - they would think she'd gone mad. 

Dawnsfirstbloom loved the day, and funnily enough for very similar reasons. "...dressed up as sprites and pixies and yes goblins, but not the real kind, what muggles thinks we are. Which is similar, yeah, but a lot more green. We'd go up to London above and wander about - free for once to do as we liked without 'avin' to be in disguise. Stop laughin', I know we were in costume, but that don't count. It's not the same. It isn't!" Dawnsfirstbloom said over Rose's laughter, but laughed along with her too.

The Halloween feast wasn't going to be the usual Hogwarts feast. Instead it was going to have more of a party feel, with a dance and the meal itself would be a smorgasbord with places to sit down around the walls. The usual House tables were to be removed for the evening.

"You have to come," pleaded Dawnsfirstbloom when Rose said she might skip it. "I'm going as a goblin, Before you say anyfing snarky, Rosegoblinfriend, I'm goin' as a World of Warcraft goblin - all in green with armor and a sword. I've got the perfect fing for you to be too, I just wish we ‘ad the internet to show you proper. It sucks we can't get it 'ere."

Rose hadn't really cared about the internet when she'd been at home. She'd never really used the computer that much, preferring a good book any day. Hugo, on the other hand, you couldn't beat him off the machine with a stick, playing his DOTA2 and other online games.

A couple of days later Dawnsfirstbloom came up to her with a book about World of Warcraft that one of the older boys in the Malfoy scholarship group had gotten for her from the bookshop in Hogsmeade. Rose went ballistic when she saw what Dawnsfirstbloom had in mind for her. "You've got to be kidding me, I'm not wearing something like that; with my boobs half falling out,” Dawnsfirstbloom gave her a look, Rose was only a bit more developed than the rest of them in that department, but Rose ignored her as she continued to say, “and the rest of my bits covered - if you could call it covered - with bits of aluminium foil. No way!"

Eventually, they compromised. Which was a big thing for Rose as she normally wouldn't change her mind for anyone. Her mother would have been so pleased and relieved, to see the beneficial effects that the friendship with Dawnsfirstbloom was having upon Rose.

So, with some cloth purchased from Hogsmeade by another of Dawnsfirstbloom's scholarship friends, the last weekend before Halloween saw them both in the workshops of Dropforged working on their costumes. So were a lot of other people too: the workshop they were in, was packed with students sewing and sculpting and paper mâché-ing and ... charming and transfiguring too.

The charms club was there with professor Flitwick and even McGonagall dropped in at one point, helping people out. Telling them and showing them how to charm things or transfigure their costumes to make them look or sound or act even better.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Halloween arrived and classes stopped early so that everyone had ample time to get ready.

Of all their dorm-mates, Rose and Dawnsfirstbloom were the first to get ready. When Finnegan got a look at Rose's outfit she wolf-whistled heartily, "Wow Rose, and I thought I was going as something sexy." Rose blushed to the roots of her hair and it took all of Dawnsfirstbloom's convincing not to make her strip off the revealing costume immediately and stay in her dorm all night. Dawnsfirstbloom had to almost push Rose out of the dorm, all the while looking daggers at Finnegan. Who was she to comment anyway, from what Rose could see, she was going as some sort of slutty cat, which Rose (rather prudishly) thought was inappropriate. Ayesha was dressed in a Victorian ball gown, the pearlescent white of the dress setting her dark skin off beautifully. Rose didn't see what the other two were getting dressed as because Dawnsfirstbloom hurried her out lest she change her mind again.

The Great Hall looked fantastic when they arrived. Hagrid had grown a super, giant pumpkin and its empty shell framed the doorway; the students entering the hall having to pass through it. Rose and Dawn made a beeline straight for the food, mostly because they were starving, but also because they were some of the first people there. Dawnsfirstbloom had been so excited about the night, that their costumes had been good to go for ages and needed no last minute additions or changes.

The first thing that Rose couldn't help but notice was a large cage at one end of the room, but before she could ask Dawnsfirstbloom if she knew what it was for, she was distracted by something that just couldn't be - one of the stars in the sky went out. Normally the enchanted ceiling just showed whatever the sky outside was like and in the dark, and with so little light pollution near Hogwarts, what they were usually treated to was the panoply of stars, bright in the heavens. But one had just gone out and it simply couldn't be. Rose paused, staring intently at the ceiling with a chicken leg halted halfway to her mouth. Another star went out, with a slightly audible pop and a shower of sparks. Rose narrowed her eyes suspecting some sort of magic trick, staring at the spot where the star had been and sure enough, after half a minute or so, it reappeared. Rose nodded her head once, glad to have her suspicions confirmed and, satisfied on that front, was happy to admire the skill with which the illusion had been done.

Rose pointed out the cage to Dawnsfirstbloom, this time with a chicken wing in her hand, but Dawnsfirstbloom had no idea what it was for either. They didn't have to wait long for an answer as they overheard an older girl right near them say to a friend, "I don't believe it, they actually got the Weird Wolves."

It suddenly became clear to Rose as a fragment of a memory rose to the surface. She only knew of the band vicariously through her cousins, but she knew the history behind them better because she had read up on it herself. Dominique, Lucy and Roxanne were obsessed with bands and music and Rose knew that was where she'd heard the name before. They'd told Rose about the Weird Wolves and now Rose related the story to Dawnsfirstbloom. The lead singer of the Weird Wolves was the son of one of the members of the Weird Sisters and singing in a cage was their trademark because all of the band members were werewolves. 

Before he was of an age to attend Hogwarts, he had been bitten and turned by Greyback. It was in that murderous year that Greyback had roamed free during the ascension of Voldemort in the Second Wizarding War. There had been quite a few victims of the foul acts of that monster - the Ministry under Thicknesse had turned a blind eye to his excesses. There were so many victims that after the war it presented a problem; when there had been only a few werewolves they could be shunted to the side and virtually ignored by a Ministry that didn't want to know, but the numbers of victims after the war and their friends and families couldn't be ignored. Especially that so many of them were children, letting them all into Hogwarts would pose a serious problem and quite a potential risk to the other students.

The answer was solved when all the parents got together themselves (a lot of them having met in the halls of St Mungo's) and found that together they were quite a cross section of the wizarding community, including: one Singer with the Weird Sisters. Using a substantial proportion of the money that she'd made from the band, and with not inconsiderable assistance from the other parents too, they solved their problem by starting their own school. Staffing was no problem, as there were plenty of adult werewolves desperate for employment. Where the school was to be sited was also not that much of a problem either because they found a largely uninhabited Irish island for not only the school but a community around it too. As the thing progressed, the families of the victims sold up their houses in Britain and Ireland and joined the soon thriving community. It was partially funded by the Ministry, it's remoteness not a factor for people who could apparate to and from the mainland anytime they wanted to. It was such a success that soon it found itself attracting a lot of the werewolves of Great Britain and Ireland, regardless if they had children at the school or not.

As for the school itself, it gave its students a decent magical and Muggle education because werewolves often found it easier to find employment in Muggle occupations than in wizarding ones. It also boasted a fine musical program too, due to the influence of the Weird Sisters and one of the upshots of it all was this band, the Weird Wolves. And their signature was performing in the cage, which appeared to be roughly made and grungy, but that too was all part of the show.

As Rose explained all of this to Dawnsfirstbloom, the hall had filled up around them. Rose was impressed by all the effort that had gone into a lot of the costumes. She remembered something her dad had said once, _‘that when we all get together_ (meaning witches and wizards) _for an event, we can't help but to show-off.’_ Some of them were store bought of course - the Sunday might have been spent by a fair few people making their own costumes in the workshop, but the Saturday had been spent by the rest of the school costume shopping in the few dress shops in Hogsmeade.

McGonagall suddenly appeared at the head of the hall and her voice, magically raised above the hubbub of the gathered students, welcomed them all and announced the band. There was a massive cheer and a rush by a lot of the older girls to the front of the stage, but ... nothing seemed to be happening. As the nothing kept on happening, the screaming and the cheering began to slacken off. Just as the noise of the crowd was about to peter out completely, a massive howl echoed throughout the hall. There was a blast of pyrotechnics and all of a sudden the cage was full of half-dressed shaggy haired young men. They came in on a deep and loud bass note that seemed to reverberate through Rose's very bones and was added to by a renewal of the screaming and cheering from the girls up the front.

The drummer started a count, and Rose suddenly realised that there was a girl in the band after all. She had no shirt on, like the rest of the boys, but her long hair fell down in front and hid her boobs. She clicked her drumsticks together above her head in time with her count and then slammed them down. With a clash of cymbals and a rolling drum beat the song started.

The lead singer, long and lanky, leaned over slightly into his microphone stand. His face mostly concealed by his unkempt and unruly black hair, he drawled his words into the microphone unintelligibly. The students went into mad gyrations in time to the music and Rose could barely hear Dawnsfirstbloom beside her say, "Oh this song, this is who sings it." She grabbed Rose's hand. "Come on, this is a good one, let's dance."

Rose resisted, trying to tug back her arm, shaking her head. "No, I'm no good. I can't dance."

"This is not dancing," argued Dawnsfirstbloom, "not proper dancing. Look at them," pointing at the students on the dance floor, "all you have to do is jump around a bit in time to the music. Come on!"

Rose let herself be dragged out into the swirling mass of humanity. They bopped around together for a couple of songs then they were joined by Ayesha and Finegan for the next two. Then the band announced that the next song was to be the last of the current set. When they started up it was a slow number. Finnegan's eyes lit up. "I'm off to find a boy." Ayesha rolled her eyes at her friend, but nonetheless followed, no doubt to find a boy for herself. Dawnsfirstbloom and Rose just shook their heads at each other and left the dance floor to get themselves a drink.

They were standing by the drinks table as the song was winding down when a boy, wearing some sort of fancy armour almost blundered into them. He did a double take when he saw them and came to an abrupt halt as if he'd walked into a wall. He raised his hand and pointed at Dawn. "It's a goblin!" he cried, his mouth gaping wide.

Rose looked at him like he was mad and was about to say, _'der, what did you think she was,'_ when Dawnsfirstbloom beat her to it, but not in the way Rose was expecting.

"What's it to you, Alliance Lackey?" Dawnsfirstbloom said right back at him, adopting a pose.

Rose didn't really understand what was happening, but obviously the boy did. His face registered surprise at Dawnsfirstbloom's words, but pleasant surprise. He quickly rearranged his smile and put on a false sneer, adopting a pose himself. "My business is my own, Horde scum."

"Not when you stick your ugly nose where it don't belong," Dawnsfirstbloom rejoined. 

And that's when the armour the boy was wearing registered in Rose's memory - it was similar to the armour some of the people were wearing in that World of Warcraft book. She should have recognised the style and from the insults that the pair of them were hurling at each other, she guessed that he was on opposite sides somehow; Alliance versus the Horde apparently, but who the good guys were and who were the bad, Rose had no idea.

"Hold your foul tongue Horde scum, uh, no already used that one, um, I got it - hold your foul tongues you Horde Whores!"

"You dog," cried Dawnsfirstbloom, "I care not for myself, but you shall not defame my fair lady Rose."

"The only thing fair about her is the pallor of her unholy skin."

"That's it!" Dawnsfirstbloom said, drawing the sword off of her back. "I'd like to say, I'll teach you the error of your ways, but you won't live long enough to learn your lesson." Dawnsfirstbloom struck a fearful martial pose, done up as she was in paper-mâché armour transfigured to look like it was made out of metal. Her charmed green skin looked ghastly in the torchlight as she held up her sword, almost as long as the goblin herself and dared her attacker to proceed.

The boy drew his own sword with a yell and struck a different pose then he made a clumsy pass with his sword towards Dawnsfirstbloom, in an act of obvious play-sword fighting. But the little goblin batted it expertly away, indicating very clearly that the sword she carried wasn't just for show - she obviously knew her way around the weapon,

"Oh, ho! It looks like the little wench might be able to fight after all. Before you die at my hands you should know that you face Sir Brad of the Broken Helm."

"HA! you shall eat those words and dirt too before I am done with you because you face Dawn of Your Death." As soon as she'd finished she sprang at him and the sword fight was on.

A space around them had cleared when the two had started verbally abusing each other, but now as the sword fight began in earnest the space around them grew even more. It helped that the song had finished and the dance floor had begun to clear because now it was taken over by the two combatants. 

And what a show it was, both were proficient with their chosen weapons. Sir Brad with his larger and broader two handed sword and Dawn of Your Death with her long but slender sword. The people who lined the circle around them were really getting into it: clapping and cheering. The band, who had initially started to put their instruments down to have their break, took them back up again and started to play some ad hoc fight music.

Dawn of Your Death had started off the fight wielding her sword with two hands, but at one stage Sir Brad had battered her sword to one side so that it was too far out of position against a quick reverse slash from his sword. He hadn't counted on Dawn of Your Death whipping out a dagger from her belt and at the last minute parrying his blow; to the ohh's and ahh's of the audience. For the rest of the fight she fought with the sword in her right hand and the dagger in her left.

The onlookers were also getting a crash course in human and goblin martial history. A lot of them learnt, in the few minutes of the fight, far more than they ever had in countless hours stuck in front of Binns. Initially, it looked like Sir Brad had it all over Dawn of Your Death: he was bigger, his reach and his sword were longer, and he was more powerful (some of his blows, though parried successfully by Dawn of Your Death, lifted the little goblin literally off her feet). But Dawn of Your Death was holding her own. The agile little goblin was dodging most of his attacks and not just through feats of dexterity, but also because her small stature presented such a tiny target for the older boy to hit.

The fight eventually came to an end when Sir Brad put a bit too much force into a blow which deflected off Dawn of Your Death's dagger and hit her in the upper arm. There was a gasp from the crowd as Dawn of Your Death dropped her dagger dramatically, clasped her upper arm, spun halfway around and hunched over. Sir Brad's face fell from the look of sudden triumph into one of concern. "Are you OK?" He asked as he approached the goblin from behind, his sword almost forgotten in his left hand.

But it had been all a ruse. Dawn of Your Death swung around, her hit and 'damaged' left arm hanging uselessly at her side; she kept in character, Rose had to give her that. Twirling around, whipping the sword around as she came, she ended up right beside the taller boy and brought her sword down across the back of his legs. He fell forward onto his knees with his body slumped over. Dawn of Your Death kept her momentum going and ended up behind Sir Brad. Raising the sword one handed in a dagger style grip, the music from the band swelled with the raising of the sword. Then with a crash of drums and cymbals and a power chord, she plunged it downwards into the boy's back.

He let out a half gargle, half moan - some sort of death noise - and fell forward onto his face to move no more.

"Woo Hoo!" yelled Rose, "Way to go, Dawn of Your Death." Dawnsfirstbloom looked up quickly and caught her friend's eye. Because Rose knew how much her friend would like it she added, "Horde Represent! Horde girl for the Win!"

With a look of utter triumph, Dawnsfirstbloom pulled the sword from the boy's back, planted one foot on his back and held the sword aloft, striking a heroic pose.

That's when Rose realised that the rest of the hall was dead silent, the echo's of her cheers were the only thing to be heard. Everyone else was either looking in horror at the body or looking in horror at her for applauding the 'murder.'

She didn't like the silent regard of the school and two things happened that usually did to her in these circumstances. First she went bright red, though it was hard to tell under the charms that turned her skin the colour it was. Secondly, as she did when confronted with stuff she didn't like, her Weasley temper, or was it her Gryffindor bravery (or a mixture of the two), came to the fore and she met it head on.

Raising her voice she addressed the crowd, "You don't think he's actually dead do you, you bloody idiots? You don't think that McGonagall would let us walk around with real, actual weapons do you? They're made of rubber."

Indeed they were, they were actually transfigured pencils. McGonagall had shown them how to do it when she came to the workshop. The wood of the pencil became the hilt of the sword and the eraser on top was transformed into the blade. Flitwick had then shown them how to charm them to make them sound like real swords when they struck something and also how they would disappear, folding back in on themselves, if stuck into something.

The boy's shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter and Dawnsfirstbloom gave him a playful stomp, "'ush you, you're supposed ta be dead." He couldn't suppress his laughter for long and Dawnsfirstbloom got out of his way so that he could roll over and she helped him to stand.

There were some in the crowd put out by being deceived, but most now cheered and applauded the two as Sir Brad held up Dawn of Your Death's hand as the victor - not realising how light she was and actually lifting her off her feet as he did so. They both took their bows to renewed applause and made their way off the dance floor to where Rose stood. They stopped suddenly when they saw her though.

Rose wasn't clapping and cheering along with the rest. She had drawn herself up to her full height and was glaring imperiously at the combatants. She looked magnificent: her skin was dark, yet somehow also pallid from the charms that Flitwick had helped them with. Her ears had been transfigured (it would wear off) so that they came out in points from the side of her head; poking out from her hair which had been pulled back and tied in one long, low ponytail. The cape that she had been keeping around herself, for modesty, was now pulled back as she struck her pose. The armoured shoulder pads glinted in the torch light as too did the body armour underneath - though if it was meant to be real, it would do little to actually protect the owner and far more to reveal and accentuate the owner's figure. The original had been far more revealing, in the 'chain-mail bikini' style of things but Rose had put her foot down.

Dawnsfirstbloom was puzzled for a moment at Rose's reactions, but then it became clear when Rose said, in a very-posh-so-unlike-Rose accent, "I hope that you have learnt your lesson, Sir Brad of the Broken Helm. You are lucky the enchantments I placed upon the Blade of Dawn of Your Death prevented your untimely demise."

"I thank you, good Lady," he replied in kind. "I most humbly withdraw my intemperate comments because truly was I bested in combat. Methinks that the Horde may not all be the villains that I once thought them to be."

"I forgive you, Sir Knight." And she held out her hand, palm down, towards the older boy. He understood immediately: going down on one knee before her, he grasped her hand, kissed the back of it and said, "Thank you gracious Lady."

"Now rise, Sir Knight, and we shall talk of this no more; as long as you keep a civil tongue in your mouth."

He bounced up to his feet and finally broke character. "Wow, that was fun. Oh hey, I made a joke, WOW, get it?" Rose didn't, but Dawnsfirstbloom obviously did, laughing away with the boy. They started talking about levels and characters and quests and stuff. Rose got herself some food, there was no way she was going to get a word in edgeways.

She heard the boy, Brad she assumed, say, "Yeah, I’m Muggleborn and I always loved fantasy, you know, played W.O.W. and dreamed of being in a fantasy world. My dad and mum were right into the SCA stuff, so that's where I learnt the sword fighting. And then I find out I'm a wizard and come to Hogwarts, how cool was that." It was then that Rose realised that, of course, W.O.W were the initials of World of Warcraft.

She sighed to herself and had to be content munching away on ... she looked... some sort of spring roll. She noticed Finegan dragging a boy by the hand across the largely empty dance floor. Ayesha walked far more sedately with that tall black Slytherin boy by her side. Rose looked around but couldn't see her other two dorm-mates and, with all the variety of costumes, probably wouldn't have recognised them anyway.

People passed her by and often with a, 'hi Rose.' Rose would always smile back and respond with a polite, 'hi' of her own.

"Ah, Miss Weasley," someone said from beside her in a falsely deep voice, "I trust that you are enjoying the dance. It is truly a fine distraction for young persons, is it not?"

She turned to see Albus dressed like a Wizard. Or what Muggles would think a wizard should look like anyway: all long flowing robes; the tall, pointy hat; and long, long flowing grey hair and a similar grey beard. Rose came to the sudden realisation of who it was that Albus was trying to be and it made her laugh out loud. "Yes I am, Professor Dumbledore," Albus was dressed as his namesake of course, the cheeky git, "and yourself? The dance was obviously good enough to come back from the dead for, I see."

"Indeed," Albus replied, nodding sagely, "as the time approached, I feared I could delay my return no longer."

In the background, Rose could hear the unmistakable sounds of the band returning for their second set of the evening. Albus must have too, because he said, "Miss Weasley, I believe this old frame of mine could withstand another dance or two, would you care to join me on the dance floor to 'cut a rug' as we used to say?"

Rose laughed again at Albus' feigned tone and mannerisms. She hardly wanted to dance earlier, till Dawnsfirstbloom had dragged her out and made her, but she'd gotten the taste for it now. Turning to Dawnsfirstbloom to bring her along, she was met with a wave of the hand and a, 'in a bit,' Shrugging and turning back to Albus, she said, "Why not."

They bopped away together for a song and then were joined by Finnegan and Ayesha. The tall black Slytherin boy was still with Ayesha, but the boy with Finnegan, Rose would have sworn was not the same one she'd dragged across the dance floor earlier. The two pairs drifted away in the next song and were replaced by another couple of girls and Scorpius. The song after that the boys went off with the two girls and Rose was joined by her two other dorm-mates. 

"Hi, you two," Rose said, barely being able to be heard above the loud music. They were both dressed as sort of Panda's in onesies and with black and white makeup on their faces. It was while they were dancing together, that the one sour note of the evening occurred.

They were swaying and bopping away to a catchy tune when that Slytherin boy - the one who'd pinched her and was going to pinch another girl on the first day - came up, without a word being said and tried to insinuate himself between them, presumably to dance with them. Rose really had to learn his name sometime, otherwise she would never stop from thinking of him as 'that pervy creeper.' The way he did it was so creepy too, only cementing the way Rose felt about him. He was dancing by himself and sort of danced over to them, and when his silent advances seemed to be going no where, he danced off in the same manner; trying to be nonchalant and cool about it.

As he left, the girls all looked at each other and burst into laughter. Dawnsfirstbloom chose to join them then and wanted to know what they were all laughing about. They couldn't make themselves heard over the noise of the band, but it turned out that it was the last song of the set and when they went to sit down Rose told her then.

"Bloody little creeper," was all Dawnsfirstbloom said, causing Rose to fall about laughing. 

During the break, Rose sat and chatted with anyone and everyone who came her way. Normally she wasn't so loquacious, always being busy studying or reading, but tonight she was having the time of her life. When the band came back on for their third and final set, it was Rose who dragged her tired little goblin friend back out onto the dance floor. "But Rose, you didn't ‘ave to do a bloody sword fight too." Rose ignored her protests and they danced together with Albus and then with Scorpius. Ayesha turned up with that tall black Slytherin boy. After a dance they swapped partners. The partners were fluid and Rose was just happy to dance.

The final dance of the evening found Rose dancing with all of her dorm-mates in a sort of rough circle to a rousing song filled with crashing drums and thrashing guitars. They danced and whistled and stamped their feet and when it ended they screamed for more. But the lights in the hall came back up and the band, once they had disappeared with a, "goodnight, Hogwarts," didn't return.

Shepherded by the older prefects, the six girls made it back to their dorm, passing by a rather happy (read: drunk) Fat Lady. Rose barely drew her curtains apart, the exertion of the night finally catching up to her, and crashed down onto the bed. She wouldn't have bothered getting changed, but the 'armoured' shoulder pads dug into her, so she managed to strip them off and also the more restrictive portions of her outfit. 

When she woke in the morning it was to find that not only had she somehow managed to crawl under her bedspread, but she'd also slept in for once. She found, after the exertions of the previous night that she didn't mind missing her run at all, so she rolled over and went back to sleep.

Note: The quote that Rose remembers from her father, is a misquote of something her grandfather said in Goblet of Fire. And while I am attributing my sources, you may recognise in Albus’ conversation with Rose, certain phrasing ‘borrowed’ from Pride and Prejudice, most notably from Lord Lucas.

* * *

**  
Author’s note: I hope you enjoyed my tale of Halloween.**

**It’s funny, this whole chapter was written solely because one snippet of a scene came to me - the one where some random boy points to Dawnsfirstbloom dressed as a WOW goblin and blurts out, “It’s a goblin.” So I sat down to write out how we could get to that place and everything else just seemed to fall out of my pen. I particularly like the werewolf stuff - going in, all of it was not only unplanned, but also not even thought of - it seemed to simply write itself. What do you my readers think, love it or loathe it? Feel free to tell me any opinions of it or anything else in this chapter that you may have, in that empty little review box below that is just begging to be filled.**

**Not only that, the whole chapter, whilst not advancing the plot overmuch, allowed me to explore some things with the nature of the characters and, who knows, maybe it also allowed me to put in various bits and pieces that might just have an impact upon future events.**

**Note: The quote that Rose remembers from her father, is a misquote of something her grandfather said in Goblet of Fire. And while I am attributing my sources, you may recognise in Albus’ conversation with Rose, certain phrasing ‘borrowed’ from Pride and Prejudice, most notably from Lord Lucas.**

****


	16. Rose's first Quidditch Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our major protagonist participates in something she has been looking forward to for months.
> 
> On the nature of scoring certain games; Rose knows something important about Albus; what can happen when the books one seeks are in a rarely used section of shelves; on the nature of discipline.
> 
>  
> 
> _"Um Albus, before the others get here, um, can I ask you a question?"_

**Note: If I was writing about Roslyn playing her first game of the Albert Cup, and Roslyn overhearing Albert and Scorpion talking in the library; well then it'd all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec ... sigh ...**

**but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

The banner and all chapter images were painted by myself.

* * *

 

Chapter 16: Rose's first Quidditch Game

 

After Halloween there wasn't much to look forward to except for school work and an uneventful slide into Christmas. Nothing much except for one thing. One thing shone brightly on Rose's horizon, one thing she'd been longing for: her first Quidditch match.

Sure, it was only a practice game, one of the ones from the Albus League, as people were starting to call it, but Rose had seen enough of them to realise that they were real in a very true way, as real as any game of quidditch that she'd ever seen. Most people were starting to take them very seriously indeed.

Albus had started it off and it was he who had further refined the rules, albeit vicariously. Someone had shouted out, as Albus had been about to go on in his first match, "what team are you playing for then?"

As Albus looked around it had suddenly occurred to him: the game was between Slytherin and Hufflepuff and the ref was always from one of the other houses not playing. Today it was Gryffindor, so that left only one house. "Ravenclaw," he shouted back, "today I'll be playing for Ravenclaw."

One the boys from beside the pitch shouted back,"So they get 150 points if you catch the snitch?"

"That's not fair," someone said and then another girl in the stands said, "Yeah, that's not right, Ravenclaw could win the game and they aren't even playing."

"Ok then," chimed in Albus with a sudden inspiration, "how about half the usual points then?"

After the game some wit had taped up a piece of parchment on the notice board with the heading ‘Albus Cup’ at the top and underneath:-  
Slytherin: 120 points  
Hufflepuff: 60 points  
Ravenclaw: 70 points

Everyone laughed to see it, but after the next game there was another piece of parchment with the updated scores and soon people were taking it as seriously as they took the House Cup itself.

As it turned out, the first game Rose would get to play was the last game before Christmas. It was just the way it worked out really - after the holidays there were going to be a slew of practice games and she'd get to play them all, but before then it was going to be only the one. Two Hogsmeade weekends in succession - organised for just before the break so that there was a chance for some Christmas shopping - saw to the dearth of games. 

So Rose was as excited as she could be, once the day finally arrived.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

All the exercising and the drills had been done - all the training, as Albus had pointed out. So it was time for the actual game - the 'practice' part of the training - to begin. The stands started to fill up as the captains separated the players back into the two teams and huddled them together for a pre match confab.

It was to be Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, with a Slytherin referee so it meant that Albus was playing for Ravenclaw.

Rose hardly noticed the start of the game, she was so excited, determined as she was to catch the snitch. Every game played so far, and Rose had watched them all, Albus had caught the snitch in every single one. But not today. This one was hers and she was determined to pull it off. She'd studied how the other seekers had played, how the tactics of this peculiar three seeker variation of quidditch worked. Most importantly, she'd played Albus many times before and knew a trick that they didn't.

None of the other seekers had cottoned on to it and she was secretly delighted that Scorpius hadn't either. Each time, even though there had been two other seekers, each time Albus had gotten to the snitch first. 

Albus was just that good. 

And that's what the trick was - _‘Albus was better than you.’_ Knowing that, Rose knew you didn't try to mark Albus. If you did, if you were flying together with him and you both saw the snitch at the same time, then in a race to it Albus would always get to it first. It was a simple fact: _‘Albus was better than you.’_ Rose knew she was good, better than just good, but she knew Albus was better.

So when the whistle blew she raced off around the pitch playing her own game. Leaving the other seeker to try to watch Albus, mark Albus as they both flew above the game. Rose twisted and soared around the rest of the players ignoring them all. She couldn't have told you who was winning or what was happening in the rest of the game. At some points she dodged out of the way of the seekers, at others, flew under the play hugging the ground. At one point she even matched trajectories with a bludger for a time as it hung in the air, seemingly motionless relative to Rose; beautiful. Until a beater shoved her out of the way and belted it tangentially across the field at an opposing Chaser.

In the end the snitch catch was relatively easy. A flash of gold flew past her as she rounded two chases. She corkscrewed in the air following it around and in a few seconds the snitch was hers. It was lucky, yes, but she'd put herself in the path of luck. That was the point; it was just as much luck as skill catching the snitch when one was up against Albus.

She came back to herself and back to reality. The roar of the cheering crowd was overwhelming and she caught a brief glimpse of the stands that were packed with people before she was assailed and hugged by the rest of her teammates.

They settled slowly to earth, the knot of Gryffindors, and once on the ground Olivia was slapping her on the back, just managing to be heard over the crowd. "If you hadn't warned me what you were going to do before hand, I would have kicked you off the field myself."

The other Gryffindors were there and were congratulating her too. Then came Dawnsfirstbloom, jumping and jumping with joy, screaming her name. Albus suddenly appeared and caught her in a massive hug. "I should have known it would be you. That you'd be the first to beat me to the snitch."

 

\--o-O-o--

 

The high Rose was on lasted weeks. Lasted almost till Christmas. The week before she was due to go home found Rose in the library. Rose was often to be found in the library, that was no surprise, but mainly it was after lunch or in the afternoons after classes had finished. This day found her in the library at morning tea time because she'd run out of the goblin books she was reading her way through; all in the pursuit of improving her gobbledegook. 

She didn't mean to eavesdrop ...

Later on, she justified her presence there, to herself, because she was in the library for a legitimate reason. She'd been in a 'secret nook' of the library that she'd discovered the first time she'd been in this section, looking for the books in gobbledegook and about gobbledegook. She didn't know why more people didn't use it, the reasonably large table in it was rarely used, well, no one had ever been there when Rose had sat down at the table. She often did use the area, due to the other tables in the Library being full, or simply to escape the distractions of the other students. There were reasons more students might not have even known of it's presence: the entrance to the section was not only down past these infrequently used shelves, but the entrance was also concealed by a trick of the shelving - a student wouldn't know it was there till they were right on it.

She had emerged from her secret nook and was squatting down behind the seldom used section of bookshelves, right near the main study tables, because the books she wanted were on the bottom shelf. By the time she heard someone approaching, they'd already dumped their school bags and started talking. And then, by the time she'd recognised the voice of Albus and Scorpius too, there was no good opportunity to reveal her presence.

She was just going to get her book and sneak away - right then she didn't feel like being dragged into a verbal to-and-fro with Scorpius. That was what she was going to do, should have done, except what she heard Scorpius say kept her rooted to the spot.

"Um Albus, before the others get here, um, can I ask you a question?"

"I don't know, can you ask me a question? Are you able ..." Albus replied cheekily but was stopped because Scorpius had thrown a book at him. Albus was laughing. "You're always the one going on about your grandma." 

Flutter, flutter, thump, "hey!" 

Scorpius had thrown another book.

"It's grammar you ill-educated dolt. See what you've reduced me to. My crimes against literature are great indeed, here hand me back my plays." Rose saw, through a gap in the books on the shelving, Albus hand them back without another word. "So may I ask you a question?" Albus took a breath to try to say something, but Scorpius overrode whatever he was about to say, "before you bloody say it, not just that question, another one."

Albus chuckled. "Yeah OK Scorp, what?"

Scorpius faltered a bit and lost his confident tone. "I," he paused, obviously gathering his thoughts. "Look I know you are my mate. You've proven your true feelings to me often enough so I'm not questioning you. It's just that ... I would really like to know if you were just being kind to me on the train - you know, when we came to Hogwarts - had you really never heard the name of Malfoy before?"

Albus had looked worried for a bit at his friend's tone of voice but he laughed at the actual question when it was revealed at last. "Yep truly, really truly. I'd heard of your dad, I told you so, remember? But not much. Why would I have?"

"But what my Dad did ..." began Scorpius.

Albus overrode him. "I told you, my dad doesn't hold grudges. He gives everyone a chance and then he gives them a second one as well. He told me once, 'I gave Voldemort a second chance, and if I can do that for the most despicable wizard I've ever met, then I can do it for everyone."

"Does he talk about it much, all that stuff?" Scorpius couldn't help but ask.

"Nah, not really. I know Rose's dad talks about his 'adventures' more. She sort of grew up on them as Bedtime Stories. So I heard some stuff from him, but my dad ... not really. He sort of had to start telling us about this stuff, after we were ambushed once by some reporters once. Afterwards Lily was crying, 'cause she was, you know, younger; I was just confused; can't remember what James was, hmm. So anyway, Dad sat down and talked a lot of it over with us, gave us the basics."

"But, if your dad was in any of the stories... " Albus shrugged his shoulders. "I can't remember. And dad never really named names: he'd say Auntie Hermione and Uncle Ron, without the aunt and uncle of course, but your Dad?" He shrugged again. "My dad would just say someone did this, or a boy or whatever did that. I suppose it could have been your dad in some of them."

Scorpius let out a breathless snort. "Probably most of them, from what my father told me."

"The only time I really remember Dad talking about your dad, was when he read about him in the paper once. I don't know when it was, but it was years ago."

"Do you know what it was about?” queried Scorpius.

"No." Albus shook his head in negation, "something good though, because Dad goes, 'Ginny,' we were at breakfast, 'hey Draco's in the paper.' I remember asking, is that a real name, a real person's name? Dad said, 'yes,' and when I asked who it was he said, 'an old school mate.' Mum had come in by then and dad gave her the article to read and when she did she went, 'I guess you were right, the leopard can change its spots. I love your big, kind, forgiving heart.' And she kissed him and that's where it went all blah and smoochy. But forgive and forget, that's my dad for you."

An uneasy silence descended upon them and Albus looked around. "Where are those guys?"

After a bit of a pause, he said, "you know, while we're talking about this stuff, there's something I always wanted to know too. Did you really think I'd hit you back there; on the train?"

"Oh yes," said Scorpius, "what was that vulgar expression I heard the other day? Oh yes, I was _'shitting bricks'._ "

"But why?" questioned Albus and he quickly asked, "it's not because, you know ...?"

"What?"

"That your dad beats you?"

Scorpius tsked, "Oh no, nothing like that. He's never beaten me, as such. I won't say he has never raised his hand to me. I mean what kid has never been smacked by his dad?"

"Um," said Albus raising his hand, "me."

"Oh yes, but your dad is Harry Freaking Potter, Savior of The Wizarding World isn't he. What about your mum, then?"

"That's different."

"No it's not. So she was the one to smack you ... no," he looked at Albus shrewdly, "wooden spoon?"

From Albus' reaction he knew he'd hit the mark. "So your mum was the one to enforce physical discipline. I'll have you know, my mother has never raised a hand to me in her life. It's always one parent who will administer the smacks required in any household. Anyway, we've gone off track, what were we saying?"

"About your dad beating you, or not beating you."

"Oh yes, my father has his faults, but that's not one of them. I've always been treated fairly by him; coldly but fairly. I mean it's not so much his fault: his dad, my grandfather, wasn't the nicest and his father, my great-grandfather, was apparently a real horror. He tries, my dad, he did, he does. He tries his hardest but, I don't know… I told you about him sending me to that Muggle school for a couple of years. To teach me some ‘necessary skills and some humility’ he said. It was so horrible. The weird, little, blond, bookish kid, who didn't know what football was and kept saying strange stuff. Ugh, what a nightmare."

"Anyway to get back to what you asked me, about me thinking you were going to hit me."

"Oh … yeah." Albus had lost track himself.

"My father has always been fairly honest about him being on the wrong side and some of the stuff he'd done, but after I left the Muggle school and before coming here, he sat me down and told me everything. It was a cauldron of ... I don't know, awfulness that you couldn't believe and so much of it was against your dad, Albus, so much of it. So when it was you who came in to sit with me, because you saw all the other carriages, how full everywhere else was except for mine - you two weren't the first to pass me by: the blonde freak; the son of a Death Eater."

"Oh hey mate," Albus said comfortingly.

"No, no; that's what it was like. And then you came along. You passed me by at first, and I admit I breathed a sigh of relief, but then you came back."

"You knew it was us?" Albus asked.

Scorpius understood what Albus meant. "Of course I did. For one, you look so much like your father it's unfunny, but I also saw you on the platform next to him. And what's more your picture was in Witch Weekly: _'The latest two children of the Golden Trio bound for Hogwarts.'_ So, of course, I knew who you were and I thought you were going to hate me. Then when you nearly fell into me I thought you were actually going to belt me, and I've been belted before. Not by my dad," he said quickly, holding out a hand negatingly, "but by the boys at that Muggle school, and I didn't really want to experience it again."

There was a silence that descended over the two boys pregnant with unasked questions, but before it could be filled by either, there came the unmistakeable sounds of other boys approaching.

"Ho!" Scorpius said, "is that the sound of angels coming hither." 

A few boys burst into the space in front of Albus and Scorpius. Rose couldn't see them clearly from her vantage point.

"Hey what took you so long?" asked Albus in a voice too loud for the quiet library, and he quickly added, "and where's everyone else?"

"Sinclair ate a toad," said a voice Rose didn't recognise.

"No way," said Albus in a disbelieving, almost whisper.

"Indeed he speaks the truth," intoned a deep voice that Rose recognised as belonging to the tall, dark skinned Slytherin boy she'd danced with at Halloween.

"Surely Albus," Scorpius said, readopting that manner he used most often when in company, "you must own, that out of all of our acquaintances, Sinclair was the most likely to consume an amphibian."

"Haha, true dat!"

"Ugh," said Scorpius and the dark skinned Slytherin boy together.

"Albus, please don't ever use that expression in our presence ever again," came the rich deep voice.

"OK, OK. So where is he? Hospital wing? OK, let's go then."

"Alright but we must stop by my own dormitory first," said Scorpius, "to pick something up." 

"What? Why, when it's so out of the way?"

"It is usual, is it not, to bring something when you visit somebody in the hospital? Grapes or chocolate being the usual faire. Then I believe, what would be appropriate in this circumstance, would be some chocolate frogs."

The boys, laughing uproariously, and with Madam Pince chasing them from the library, exited - leaving Rose sitting on the floor behind the shelves, her head spinning.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Rose could hardly look at Scorpius for the rest of the time till Christmas break. It was with a certain amount of relief when Albus sought her out to ask, "Hey Rosie do you mind if I don't sit with you and Dawn? It's just that Scorp and I, we're going to sit with a group of guys and there's not going to be enough space for you too."

Rose 'reluctantly' accepted his apology, "That's ok, we'll see each other lots in the holidays anyway. Chrissy at The Burrow; then New Year's at your place; as per usual, right?"

"Yeah of course. So, you don't mind?"

"It's OK Albus, I said I won't," she said a bit exasperatedly, "I've got Dawn and we’ll sit together."

 

\--o-O-o--

 

In the end they didn't sit far away from each other anyway - they were in separate compartments, yes, but it was in the same carriage and only a few doors down from each other. Dawnsfirstbloom and Rose had passed the noisy jam-packed compartment the boys were sharing with what seemed like more boys than could comfortably fit inside just one compartment. Dawnsfirstbloom and Rose shared a look which said, 'boys!' without having to utter a word.

They found an empty compartment, which was only a few doors down. They settled in and were alone for most of the journey. Olivia Wood dropped in once and talked Quidditch with Rose for a bit. Nimblehand briefly appeared to let Dawnsfirstbloom know what would happen once they arrived at London: they were to be met by the Witchguard and all the goblins on the train would be escorted to Gringotts en masse.

Auntie Hannah stopped by with the trolley and they bought a huge bag of Bertie Botts and a few chocolate frogs. It had become their thing, ever since that first train journey, to share out each bean between them. Most of the rest of the journey they chatted away, breaking up each bean and tossing one-half to each other, talking about what they were going to do for the holidays. 

Rose almost insisted and, when that didn't work, begged Dawnsfirstbloom to come over for a day or two, but Dawn didn't know if she could. "I don't know 'ow busy I'll be. I might 'ave parties to go to and functions and stuff and all my old friends - I can't wait to see them again - they might all take 'ollidays too so that we can all 'ang out. I can't disappoint them, can I? I'll 'ave to ask, maybe you can come and visit me?" Dawnsfirstbloom said with a sly smirk upon her face.

* * *

**Author’s Note: So Rose has had her first Quidditch match, finally, so she should be happy then.**

**As to what she overheard, that my loyal readers is because of all of you. This was the sort of reasoning that was going round in my head, formless and nebulous in specifics, but nevertheless, my reasoning for some of both Albus’ and Scorpius’s reactions on the train journey. But I was called out on some of it by you readers, it was so out of the normal for what they expected that some could not believe it. Hence this chapter was born (or at least the last half of it). It is also one of those happy accidents of writing; because it was ‘forced upon me’, I wondered how I could impart the information to my readers. Having Rose overhear the exchange is perfect, because it also forces her to address some of her prejudices as well.**

**As always any and all reviews are appreciated and will always be responded to. At the moment I have no unresponded to reviews, so load me up people, load me up. ;)  
**


	17. Home for Christmas: Albus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we see what happens when the first of our four protagonists goes home for Christmas.
> 
> Albus finally sees his dad; a minor illustration of the character of James; but a major illustration of the character of Harry Potter; Hermione is shown to have a sly sense of humour: and certain inescapable things about dads everywhere.
> 
> _"I've wanted to talk to you, Albus, ever since I heard from your mother that you had invited Scorpius Malfoy here for New Years and after."_

**Note: If I was writing about Albert going home and speaking with his father Harold Plasterer; well then it'd all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec ... sigh ...**

**but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

The banner and all chapter images were painted or photoshopped by myself.

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Chapter 17: Home for Christmas: Albus 

 

Albus yawned and scratched himself as he walked down the stairs to breakfast. Entering the kitchen he found his dad seated at the table with the Daily Prophet propped up on the sugar bowl and loudly munching on a piece of toast. From the lack of reaction, it seemed that he didn't realise his son had just entered the room, but Albus knew differently.

Albus smiled at his father, knowing that he was seeing what he'd probably be like as an adult. Apart from a bit of grey in his hair, a few wrinkles here and there, Albus might as well have been looking in an odd sort of mirror. 

"Hi Dad," said Albus into the quiet of the kitchen. There was no start of surprise from his father at the suddenness of Albus' words as Albus had known there wouldn't be. Countless years spent in the pursuit and apprehension of dark wizards had given ‘The Harry Potter’ nerves of steel. No, his dad just turned his head and gave him a warm nod. Albus was struck suddenly by the difference between his dad and his Uncle Ron. He'd stayed over at Rose's often enough to know that if the same scene had been repeated there, his Uncle would have sprayed his mouthful of toast everywhere. But not his dad. His dad was always conscious of himself and his surroundings.

Albus glanced at the normal clock on the kitchen wall. "Shouldn't you be at work already? It's almost 10 o'clock," he said, walking over to the cupboard and getting out his cereal. He'd hardly seen his dad for the last few days since his arrival back home. He hadn't seen his mum on the station and his dad only briefly - his parents had detailed Uncle Ron to pick them all up. Since then his dad had been busy at work sorting out the wind down of the Auror department that would occur over Christmas when it would be staffed by only a skeleton crew.

"After twenty years, if the department can’t do without me for a few hours I haven't done my job as its head properly have I?" Harry took a sip of his tea as he regarded his son tucking into the bowl of WeetBix in front of him. 

"I stayed at home for a bit, to have a chat with you while everyone was out. Your sister is over at Ron's with Rose; your mother is still trying to track down that Kestrels Keeper who is still missing. I don't know if you heard about it but he was caught," Harry suddenly looked up, remembering who he was talking to, more importantly the age of the person he was talking to, "doing ... well, doing something he shouldn't at the Harpy's Christmas party. Anyway, your mother is trying to track him down. And your brother is doing what he always does." Harry pointed at the other clock hung upon the wall of the kitchen, a much larger one than the one that only told the time. Nanna Weasley had given one to each of her children's families and they were all variations upon the old clock at The Burrow. 

There were hands for each member of their immediate family and a few extra. His mum's was pointing at 'flying'. His father's hand and his own were both pointing straight up at 'home.' Lily's was at 'Ron's' and James' was pointing at 'Diagon Alley,' no doubt with Fred at the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, but every now and then it would swing away to another part of the clock before swinging back. The other position it would point to was labelled - 'mischief.'

"I've wanted to talk to you, Albus, ever since I heard from your mother that you had invited Scorpius Malfoy here for New Years and after."

Albus' spoon paused halfway to his mouth as he looked quizzically at his father.

"I wanted to know if you have any questions; if you wanted to know about Scorpius' father and his family?"

Albus shrugged and screwed up his mouth. "Not really."

Harry grinned., "So not like James, then?"

"What!” said Albus in surprise, bringing his spoon down onto his bowl with a sharp clang.

"Yes, he even wrote to me about you two." At the look of dumbfounded surprise on Albus' face Harry had to laugh, "Yes I'm talking about the same James, your brother: breaking my conviction that he didn't know how the Owl Post works. He actually wrote to us, telling us about you and Scorpius becoming friends and wanting to know if what the other kids were saying about Scorpius' dad was true."

"Bloody James," Albus said, getting angry, "he can't keep his nose out of my business. He knows Scorpius isn't a creep, or he would if he gave him half a chance and surely his dad wasn't that bad. I mean Scorpius is a great guy, so surely his dad can't have been all that bad, can he?"

"Hmm," said Harry with a smile, "the answer to both your questions is yes. Yes, he can't be that bad, but yes, he was that bad back in school. You have to understand, when Draco came to school..."

Albus cut him off, "Dad I don't really want to know. You aren't," and his eyes narrowed at his father, "...you aren't trying to warn me off him, are you? Trying to stop me from being his friend?"

"Oh no. Of course not, son, if you think he has value and is good enough to be your friend then that's good enough for me. Any true friend of yours is always welcome in my house."

"Well then Dad, I don't want to know any details either. What's past is past."

"And I agree with you son, totally. That's a good thing; a mature thing, Albus. You know that I love all of you kids, you've all got your good and bad, but I'm often reminded by your actions Albus, of the sort of special young man you are. The sort of person to be the first to be sorted into every House. I'm so proud of you my little mate, so proud."

"Back to what I was saying. I'm not going to try and tell you any details about what Draco did, that's not what I was going to say. I forgave Draco any wrong he did me long ago. Ha, ha," he chuckled, "unlike your uncle Ron. He's forgiven him, I know he has, but he's far from forgotten. He loves those old stories when he was a hero and ‘Helped Save The Wizarding World!’ And who can blame him, but ... no, I'm not going to dredge up old wrongs and grievances. What's the point in bringing up bad, old history? It just makes it new again so that it never goes away. There are just some things that ... I don't know, might help you to understand where he's coming from. I mean Scorpius, not Uncle Ron."

Albus was sceptical and with doubt written across his face he said, "OK Dad, I suppose so."

His father took a deep breath and let it out as he marshalled his words. "When Draco came to Hogwarts he was ...well, he thought he'd be the king of the castle. He was rich and good-looking and talented. He bore the prestigious and famous name of Malfoy and what's more he was a pureblood. You don't know how it was back then. It's eased off a bit now, but back then ... what's the word for it? Hmm? ... not widespread ... endemic, no systemic." He chuckled and with a wry grin said, "Those are the sort of words I have to use in my inter-departmental reports. Anyway, so many, oh-so-many, wizards back then, thought that being pureblood - having only witches and wizards for ancestors - was somehow better than anything else."

"And Draco certainly did. He had his own father dripping that poison in his ear since he was small. So imagine how he felt when I came along. I may as well have been Muggleborn for all that I knew about The Wizarding World. And I got all the fame and the glory and the attention."

"But, Dad," interjected Albus, "even I know the story about the three- headed dog and the challenges and facing Voldemort in your first year. That wasn't just your fame or something."

"Oh, no, it wasn't, but that's the thing - all that sort of stuff happened to me and not to him. Ha! There have been books written about that time, some have even been written as stories - keeping the known facts accurate but inventing what we said to each other. And of all those books not one has ever, or will ever be called "Draco Malfoy and the Upstart Halfblood."

"So, you know, it all happened to me and not to him. I tended to get everything and he was left with the scraps of attention, except from his cronies and sycophants. And I know, in hindsight, what Draco's nastiness towards me was - jealousy. Yep, jealousy and a bit of pettiness, I suppose, but jealous over me. Didn't he realise, I would have swapped it all in an instant and he could have had all the fame and the glory and the dead parents, and I could have had my mum and dad back." Harry paused looking sad and let out a deep sigh. 

"Anyway, I know he's changed, though. I saw it later on, when we were still at school and when he was confronted by true evil; by the things Voldemort did and wanted him to do. I saw him make the right choices and not succumb to evil. I saw that underneath all that poisonous upbringing was a good heart, it was buried, yes, but underneath it all, it was there somewhere."

"So to Scorpius. If he's a good kid - and I don't doubt you when you tell me that he is - it's just another sign to me that Draco has put his past behind him and changed for the better." He looked at his watch as he finished and stood up.

"OK Dad, I suppose that makes a few things clearer. I suppose," Albus hesitated, "Dad? You don't hate him then? Mr Malfoy?"

Harry smiled and leant over and ruffled up his son's hair. "No, I don't. I don't even hate Voldemort and he was a wicked man. I hate the things he did, they were despicable, but I only feel sorry for the man himself. He caused so much death and destruction and it was over," Harry shrugged, "fear of the dark, basically. You know, I sometimes think that death by dark wizard is one of the major natural causes of wizarding deaths. If it wasn't for the rise of dark wizards every hundred years or so we'd have double the population of wizards, at least. Anyway, if I don't hate Voldemort, then how could I end up hating Draco who proved to be twice the man Voldemort ever was?" 

He smiled, and drained the tea from his favourite cup that Auntie Hermione had given him a few Christmases ago. Albus didn’t really understand it at the time, but now he was beginning to think that it had something to do with the war and the defeat of Voldemort. At the time it had made his mum and Uncle Ron collapse in gales of laughter. Written upon the white porcelain of the cup were the words: ‘World's Greatest Chosen One.’

Picking up his briefcase he looked at his watch again as he patted his pockets looking for something. He obviously found it in his pants pocket, giving it a satisfied pat. He looked back at his son. "Your heart is full enough as it is with love and happiness. You should never let there be room in your heart for hatred." 

He began to leave but paused as Albus blurted out, "He thought I was going to hit him." His father looked at him in confusion and Albus continued, "On the train when we first met. He thought that I was going to hit him just because he was a Malfoy." Albus left unsaid, that it seemed to him that Scorpius had felt that he deserved no better. 

But his father got it. "I remember once ... I think it was Dumbledore, who said to me that, 'often those who are forgiven find it hardest to forgive themselves,' or something like that. I don't know what Draco is like now, I've hardly seen him over the years, but maybe through his son he will find the forgiveness that he thinks he never did." He stopped at the fireplace. "When is Scorpius coming over?"

"Um, before New Years. Why?"

"Make sure your room is tidy. I know we have the guest room, but you'll both want to bunk down together. I know I always did when I went to Ron's."

"OK dad," Albus said, smiling. "Sure thing." As the green flames sprung up and his father whisked away, Albus chuckled to himself: he may have been the great Harry Potter, but sometimes he was just a dad like anyone else’s - his last words telling his son to clean his room.

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**Author’s Note: Here is the first of four chapters about what happens when the kids return home for the holidays. Well, actually it will be more because one of them runs into some trouble when she - or is it he? - returns home. So I wonder who the next person we shall see at home: Rose, Dawnsfirstbloom or Scorpius?**

**Again this chapter has been betaed by the wonderful Bittersweetflames, I thank her for all her sterling efforts on my behalf - without her work a lot more of people’s reviews would be pointing out errors of spelling and especially punctuation.**

**The majority of this chapter came about because of the comments from readers - thank you all. It expands upon and hopefully explains some of my underlying assumptions about Harry’s character and why Albus has never heard of the name of Malfoy before he came to school. I really appreciate any and all reviews I receive … speaking of which, there is a certain empty box below this that is longing to have some words left in it. Just saying.**

**The quote that Harry ascribes to Dumbledore, is him misremembering it slightly. It was Hermione who said it of Dumbledore and even then she said, 'Dumbledore says people find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right'. And that quote occurs in the Half Blood Prince.  
**.


	18. Home for Christmas: Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we see what happens when the second of our four protagonists goes home for Christmas.
> 
> Ron’s words to Rose on the station are remembered and brought up once more; To My-knee or not to Mi-ni, that is the question; Hermione tells her daughter some tales out of school; An explanation for the language mannerisms of the noble purebloods is given; and, Hugo drops a bombshell.
> 
> _Rose knew there was another story that featured the word ‘Mudblood’ and she eagerly asked, "Mum, did you really punch Mr Malfoy in the face?"_

**Note: If I was writing about Rosalie going home and speaking with her Mother Harmonica; well then it'd all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec ... sigh ...**

**but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

The banner and all chapter images were painted or photoshopped by myself.

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Chapter 18: Home for Christmas: Rose 

 

Rose had an entirely different conversation with her dad when she got home from school. Uncle Harry must have spoken with him because he stomped in from the fireplace yelling out, almost as soon as he arrived home from work. "Hey Hermione, you'll never guess what!" 

He stomped into the kitchen where Rose and her mum were and stopped dead. Rose was sitting at the table peeling potatoes for the roast that night, but it wasn't she who'd pulled her father up short. Her mum had only just arrived home herself and apart from slipping off her shoes, had not bothered to change yet. Her mum did look stunning, with her hair caught up in a tight do at the back and with a Muggle women's business suit on. Her dad let out a low whistle. "Did you have that thing on today My-ni?" 

Rose knew he was probably saying 'mione, but she always heard My-ni, if not My-Knee. He walked towards his wife who had no time to do anything before he pulled her to himself in a massive hug and half spun her around. "You look gorgeous. You should meet with muggles more often." And then he kissed her. He stopped the kiss soon enough and started to nuzzle into her neck. Her mum giggled and pulled her shoulder up in ticklish pleasure, as Rose mimed throwing up into the potato peelings.

"Ron!" said her mum, playfully slapping his upper arm, "not in front of the children."

"Don't worry mum," said Rose, "I've already passed out from the horror."

Her mum extricated herself from her husband's arms and Rose caught her mouthing, 'later,' and this time she actually did feel like throwing up.

"What was it ‘Oh-bull-in-a-China-shop’ that you came in here bellowing about?"

"Oh yeah, you'll never guess who Albus has invited home for the holidays." Without stopping to let his wife answer he said, "only Scorpius-bloody-Malfoy, that's who. You know him, we saw him on the station back in September." 

He turned around again, not letting his wife get a word in edgewise, to look at his daughter. "I hope you haven't invited him here. You remember what I said?" he asked of Rose, with a half serious expression.

Rose remembered his words exactly. "Don't worry Daddy, I hate him and I beat him in every test too." Which was a bit of a fib because they hadn't had that many tests as such yet, but she scored top marks in every assignment and every essay so far and she bet Malfoy hadn't.

"That's horrible," Hermione said hitting Ron in the upper arm, as she came out from the kitchen and picked up the cut and peeled potatoes and took them back, "don't fill your daughter's head full of old hatreds." 

"Yes, well," her father said haltingly.

Hermione stood in the kitchen looking at him with her hands on her hips. Rose could see it all as the dining room was segmented from the kitchen by only a breakfast hutch. Her mum gave her dad a withering look and then sighed and shook her head in amused exasperation. "In the fridge you will find some of that beer you like; I got it while I was in Muggle London and I started recording that quidditch match, the Romanian one ..." 

She didn't get a chance to finish, as Ron grabbed her up in a hug once again. "You're the best, My-Knee." Dropping her, he went to the fridge to get his beer. He twisted the bottle cap off and said, "so I can rewind it now, can't I, even though it's live?"

"Yes Ron," she said with an exaggerated tone, "that's how televisions work now." She had to say it to his retreating back, but then she yelled out, "as long as you don't change the channel."

"OK, OK," her dad said as Rose saw him settle into his arm chair and turn on the TV. "Um, how...?"

"The black button on the remote with the single arrow," Hermione said, then quickly added, "just press it once, not more than that." But she didn't have to finish as both of them heard _"... the Hungarian players promise to be ..."_

Rose watched her mum potter about in the kitchen for a bit before saying, "but he's right, Mum, that Malfoy ..." and she proceeded to tell her mum all about his various wrongs (as she saw them), and his faults (as she saw them) and his annoying behaviour (also as she saw it), and especially the annoying, the incredibly aggravating and the arrogant way he spoke. She didn't notice her mum had tidied up in the kitchen and finished, until her mum said, "yes, I'm sorry I forgot to warn you or prepare you for that."

Rose looked up at her mother from where she was sitting at the dining room table and for a moment she was lost for words.

Her Mum looked ... gorgeous was her dad's word ... she had to think about it ... elegant, yes elegant was the word Rose would use. That was it, that's how Rose saw her. Her back was straight as she sat upon one of the stools at the breakfast bar, her legs crossed and the thigh high skirt hugging to her and accentuating her hips and narrow waist. In her right hand she held a glass of wine that Rose hadn't noticed her getting and her left arm she held across her flat stomach with her left-hand supporting her right elbow. 

In that moment she looked the epitome of urban elegance and sophistication, with the pulled-back hairdo accentuating the line of pearls at her throat and the understated gold earrings. Rose wished that she'd grow up to be exactly like her, but she knew she wouldn't. Oh, she might in the brains and ability department, but the looks ... unfortunately she knew she would never end up like her mum who had retained the slim and beautiful figure of her late teens all the way through having two kids till now. No, Rose knew her figure came more from the Weasley side - some of her dad's height and a lot from her Nana. It was Hugo who had gotten his mother's trim figure, the lucky little sod. Rose was destined for dumpiness if she wasn't careful, maybe her dad's height and her regular exercising might help and turn her statuesque instead of frumpy, but she could only hope.

She caught her mum's silent regard, looking at her with an understanding smile yet it was somehow sardonic; one raised eyebrow certainly didn't help. Rose was brought back from her lengthy contemplation and remembered what her mother had said. "What do you mean, mum?"

"We prepared you, or tried to, for a lot of what you'd find out there in the real world and at Hogwarts, but I hadn't thought about that. I'd forgotten how little experience of the rest of the wizarding world you have had outside of your family."

"And why should I need it?" Rose said defensively, "our family is the best and greatest wizarding family ever!"

Hermione sighed, an exasperated sigh, as she regarded her daughter. "You and your father! You both drive me to distraction, you are so similar. I swear, sometimes, as long as there was beer in the fridge and your uncles visited regularly, your father would never leave the house. Oh, and Quidditch on the telly, of course, that too." Her mother's gaze flicked through the open doorway into the living room and Rose's eyes followed. Her dad was yelling something at the referee on the telly. She turned her gaze back towards her mother, as she heard her mum begin to speak again. 

She was pinching the bridge of her nose and rubbing eyes with her left hand. "I haven't told you much stuff," she said, dropping her hand and raising her eyes to meet Rose's, "about," she waved her hand around in a circle, "about stuff that happened in the war, have I?" 

She gazed at her daughter for a moment then a wry smile tugged at the side of her mouth. "No, your father has done enough of that, filling your head with danger and glory. Well a lot of what we did, we had to and there was far more danger than glory, let me tell you." She paused and let out a deep breath, calming herself down. "So I know you know what happened because I know you read books about it too, as well as from your father. I just thank god someone other than Rita Skeeter wrote about it."

"What is not in any of those books, none of the ones I've read and I think I've read most of them - even Skeeter's - what you won't find is what the society was like before the war and then the subtle change it underwent afterwards. You don't know what it was like before, no one of this generation does, how the prejudice was so strongly for pureblood wizards and against Muggleborns and even, sometimes, half-bloods too. Have you ever heard the term mudblood?" Before Rose even had a chance to answer, her mum answered for her, "Oh, of course you do, it features prominently in one of your father's stories doesn't it; the one where he coughs up all those slugs."

Rose knew there was another one, another story that featured the word and she eagerly asked, "Mum, did you really punch Mr Malfoy in the face?"

Hermione looked down into her daughter's excited face, one eyebrow lifted and the side of her mouth pulled up in a disapproving way, but she felt compelled to answer her daughter despite how she felt about leaving the past in the past. "Draco was ... frankly, he was being a pig of a man at the time and it was his tone of disgust that got to me more than his words. I shouldn't have hit him, though, and of course I regretted it later. But we are getting off track, do you know what the word means?"

Rose shrugged. "Not really, I know it's bad. It sounds bad."

"It’s a term those from Pureblood families used. This is why Draco called me it and didn't say it to your father. It is, or rather it was, used to describe Muggle-borns because, as far as the Purebloods were concerned, we may as well have had mud pumping through our arteries."

Rose looked aghast but it made sense now. "But wait a sec, our family, well except for us, is a pure blood family and they don't think like that."

"That is because, Rose, the Weasleys were the biggest blood traitors out there."

Rose got suddenly angry. "The Weasleys are _not_ traitors! We are all brave and true and most of us are Gryffindors too."

Her mother smiled at Rose's naivety. "It doesn't mean that, Rose. Think of who were using the term: the purebloods, the ones who think nothing of Muggleborns and don't think Half Bloods are much better either. So if you are a traitor to that way of thinking it must be good, yes?"

Rose calmed herself down and gave her Mum a grudging nod.

"So that's what it was like, the Prejudice against Muggleborns and Half Bloods, or should I say the Prejudice for purebloods, was systemic. It was built into the fabric of how wizards thought, built into the very laws themselves. The way they treated non-humans too was disgusting, especially the House-elves. Because you know it was all the old Pureblood families who were the ones that had House-elves and kept them as slaves and treated them so poorly." Her mum was getting a bit angry at the mention of House-elves. "And then along comes Voldemort who was taking over and pushing that pro-pureblood agenda."

Her Mum finished her wine and set the glass down on the bench top behind her. "And that's what gets me," she said wagging her index finger. "Voldemort was half blood himself. If it wasn't for his Muggle father he wouldn't be alive." She shook her head and scowled. "So when he took over the ministry there were a lot of people who were only too eager to jump on his bandwagon and support his persecution of Muggleborns; like Umbridge."

At the mention of her name, despite her mother's scowl, Rose had to stifle a laugh. Her mother promptly asked her to explain. 

"I just learnt from Albus, that Uncle Harry and Dad both call her the same thing - a poisonous old cow."

"I'd call her a f'n bitch"

"Mum!" Rose said in mock outrage; she loved it when her mum swore because she rarely did, and even then she was more than likely to substitute ‘f’n’ for the actual word.

"And she's another one! I only recently discovered, when I had to search for some old documents for work, she was a half-blood too. F-*, bloody woman," said her mother, mumbling off.

Her mother gathered herself. "And this is how it was, Rose, during Voldemort's years of Terror. A lot of Muggleborns were persecuted and stripped of their wands. Some were imprisoned, some were even killed; like Teddy's dad." She got up and went to the fridge to refill her wine glass. "But when he was defeated all his evil works came crashing down upon his death. And afterwards, when everything was being restored, you can imagine how those people felt. 'Here are your wands back, sorry about all of that persecution.' No that wasn't going to make amends for what they had just been through, not nearly."

"But there was this big Remembrance service and funeral," her mother said, regarding her from her seat up on the stool, "for all the dead from the battle of Hogwarts, and Dennis gave this speech." She paused and looked inquisitively at Rose. "You know Mr Creevy don't you?"

Rose nodded. "He's got those two young kids that Lily and Hugo play with at the New Year's do's."

"Yes that's him, that's right Rose. He gave this impassioned speech about tolerance and forgiveness at the funeral and a call to people to abandon the old ways of thinking. Voldemort was defeated through kindness and people coming together despite their backgrounds, he said. People who knew how unjust and ... mean-spirited the wizarding society was."

"So all of that caused this groundswell of negative feeling towards purebloods." She smiled down from her position on the stool. "Not against the Weasleys and the blood traitors like them, but against the old, established, Noble pureblood families."

"And this is the ironic thing; most of those old families weren't direct supporters of Voldemort. Oh, they didn't say boo, when he was doing all that awful stuff to Muggle-borns. Well they wouldn't, would they, because: one, it fit in with their prejudices; and two, it wasn't happening to them."

Hermione could see from her daughters puzzled look that she didn't understand, so she said, "so who, then, were the supporters of Voldemort?" Rose nodded up at her, indicating that that was exactly what she had just been thinking.

"Well who wants power, Rose? The people in power already have it. No, the people who desperately want power are the ones who don't have any: the disenfranchised and the poor. I mean, of course, there were some from the old families that gladly joined him; like Lucius Malfoy and the Lestranges and Crouch and, I suppose, even Regulus Black too for a bit. But they all joined him more because of Voldemort's cult of personality rather than anything else. So no, it wasn't the old families so much, it was as I said: the disenfranchised, those from old families who'd fallen on hard times like Avery and Rookwood; and the poor. Most of them purebloods, but some who were ashamed of their Half-Blood status." 

Her Mum seemed lost in thought for a moment, then she said, "or those who had an abusive Muggle parent, like Professor Snape had. It happens more often than you think; a witch or a wizard will marry a Muggle and will either keep it secret from them or the Muggle will initially say they are fine with it, but then when a child comes along, and it is magical, it will become abnormal in their eyes and they end up hating the poor kid."

"I suppose that I'm getting off the track again." She set her now empty wine glass down on the bench behind her back and didn't stand up to refill it. "So even though most of them weren't strictly to blame, it was the old pureblood families that bore the brunt of the backlash. But it wasn't terribly overt or brutal because most people were taking their cues from, well, Harry and the Weasleys and Dennis, um, Mister Creevy and the surviving members of the Order. So these old families were, what's the term for it ... shunned? No, that's too strong; so is scorned. Well I suppose some were, but that harsh reaction was uncommon. But the tide of popular opinion was shifting away from favouring the purebloods and what they found was that the respect and the differential treatment that they used to get dried up."

A sudden memory brought a smile to her Mother's face. "I remember I was in a store somewhere. I think, no I'm sure, it was Flourish and Blotts, when this old biddy enters the shop and marches straight up to the counter: straight past the few people in line and demands service. She had this really shouty, old fashioned voice and said 'I want this particular book' - I can't remember now what exactly the book was."

"The girl behind the counter was polite, but she was cold and only got colder as the conversation went on. 'I'll be with you in a moment, once I’ve served the people waiting in line before you.' Well this incensed the old-girl, and she sputtered out, 'don't you know who I am? I'm a Faversham, and we have been coming to this establishment for centuries. I don't expect this sort of treatment.'"

Rose was really getting into it, her mum almost never opened up like this and told stories about the past. Rose was hooked on every word. Normally, Rose would have tried to get her own pennies worth of the conversation, but she didn't want to break the magic spell that was making her mother say so much.

"But the counter girl was steadfast and just said, 'I cannot speak for those who have come before me, but today you shall be served once all these other ladies have finished.' The old lady, Miss Faversham apparently, almost blew her stack, 'never, I never. I'm going to take my business elsewhere.' The shop assistant then says, 'fine. I wish you luck but if you cannot find the book you’re looking for, you are welcome here anytime as long as you wait in line and wait your turn."

"Faversham went bright red and slammed her cane - it was just for show, she didn't really need it - she slams it down on the ground and says 'impudent gel.’ And marched right out of the shop."

That bit of the story finished, her mother got up to check on the dinner. A huge gout of steam came out of the oven, as she opened it to turn the dishes around. She stood up, closing the door with her foot and yelled out, "Ron, dinner in twenty." Hermione took off her oven mitts and regarded her daughter again. "So that sort of thing happened more often until they sort of withdrew from Society. Those old pureblood families, they always did keep themselves mostly to themselves, but they began to do so even more - once they stopped getting the respect they were used to getting and the respect they thought they deserved. Some had good reason, if they had been actual supporters of Voldemort, but most weren't, as I said. And they also retreated socially, I mean their own social group and how they behaved. They retreated back in time, to a better time in their eyes, an old fashioned time when pureblood really meant something. The Wizarding World is generally a step or two behind the Muggle one in any respect, but the old families took a couple of steps further back; into a time of proper manners and etiquette and also 'frightfully well behaved, don't you know.'" Her mother finished in a fake, posh sounding voice that made Rose giggle. "That's why Scorpius is calling you Miss Weasley and he has such good diction. And he has manners that you are simply not used to," said her Mum with a pointed nod to the living room.

Rose didn't think it was just his pureblood manners which were making him act the way he was. She hadn't noticed him calling anyone else Miss whatever.

"Rose, haven't you seen that it's not just Scorpius who talks like that? The other pureblood girls and boys are probably similar in their speech."

Rose had noticed no such thing, but as she thought about it she realised that she hadn't really talked to that many people outside her family and Dawnsfirstbloom. There was that tall black boy from Slytherin, the one who'd come and danced with Ayesha and her at Halloween. She had overheard him talk in the library with Albus and Scorpius. He spoke all posh too, now that she thought about it. Perhaps there were others. She didn't say so, or anything more because her mother chivied her off to clean herself up for dinner.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Over dinner her Dad prompted her and Rose was back to decrying Scorpius in most every way. Her dad was lapping it up until Hermione tutted loudly. It caught his attention, because he suddenly looked up at her stern expression and the grin fell off his face as he realised he probably shouldn't be enjoying so much - his daughter cataloging the faults of his old enemy's son.

"Um, Rosie," he said interrupting her and trying to suddenly change the subject, "I hear that a certain daughter caught a certain small Golden Ball in her very first game of Quidditch at Hogwarts."

Rose's eyes were lighting up as her father talked, but then the grin fell off her face and she looked down. "It wasn't a proper game, though," she muttered.

"Hey!" said her father, snapping her attention back to him, "it was a game wasn't it?" He took her slight slight shrug as affirmation because he went on, "and didn't your team take it seriously?"

"Yeah of course," Rose replied, a little affronted at his suggestion that they wouldn't.

"And did the other team take it seriously?"

"Oh yeah," agreed Rose remembering a few close, well aimed bludgers that she'd had to dodge or else.

"Well then it was a proper game, wasn't it? I don't care if it wasn't in the official competition. This other competition actually sounds quite interesting. How does it all work again?"

And Rose filled him in, passing most of the rest of the dinner away in a lively back and forth conversation with her father. They'd almost finished their meal when her dad broke off the conversation with her and turned to Hugo. "Soon enough it'll be your turn, Hugo. What position are you going to try out for? You're small so you could be a seeker, or are you going to be a keeper like your old man?"

Rose looked to her brother in nervous anticipation, wondering what he was going to say. She'd talked to her brother a few times and she knew exactly how he felt about playing quidditch. With mounting horror she saw his reaction, he couldn't be about to tell his father exactly how he felt, could he? Hugo had closed his eyes and put down his cutlery, steeling himself for what he was about to say. Rose was looking at him truly horrified now. _'don't say it, don't say it,'_ she tried to will to him in her mind, but it did no good.

Hugo said, "I won't be trying out for the team dad, I don't like playing quidditch."

Rose could only stare, but now it was at her father in horrified fascination: how was he going to take it? Her father spluttered, some of the baked dinner flying out his mouth. He managed to get out a, "What!" Spraying even more food across the table as he did so.

"Ron," her mother scolded him.

Hugo addressed his mother, "I'm not hungry anymore mum, can I be excused?"

She dismissed him with a nod and Rose had to give it to him: he didn't bolt away, no, he put his chair in and took his plate to the sink before he left.

"But My-knee?" her dad began to say, but her mum just said "Ron," in a stern voice and flicked her eyes at her daughter and back to him. Rose caught the eye-flick and knew it meant, _'not in front of Rose.'_

The rest of the meal passed in silence and Rose excused herself soon after and sped up the stairs. She knocked on Hugo's door and barely waited for the muffled voice from inside before she opened it. Her brother was lying on his back upon his bed with a pillow over his head. Over the pillow were curled his forearms, almost as if he was trying to smother himself with it.

"Hey Hugs," she said. She had been a small girl, barely a toddler, when he came along. That's what she had called him, the two syllables of Hugo being apparently beyond her. The name, like it often does with siblings, had stuck.

He rolled his arms down and lifted the pillow off his face. "Hey Ro-ro." They both looked at each other in silence for a bit; both thinking about the enormity of what he had just admitted to their father.

"Well," said Rose eventually, "at least we know one thing." Her brother looked at her quizzically. "Yep you're going to be in Gryffindor for sure,   
because I have to tell you that's one of the bravest things I've ever seen." The smile of relief and gratitude that infused his features - him knowing that she was proud of him and would stand by his decisions - meant everything to Rose.

* * *

**Author’s Note: And here we have the main reason why Scorpius talks the way he does. Partly it is because it fits in with Pride and Prejudice, but it is mainly for the reasons outlined above. This was so strongly in my mind, but unformed until I started to be questioned upon the subject by you, my dear readers. I had no where, really, to insert it into the story before now, but finally here it is. So just like the chapter before this, and the one before that, this chapter has largely been inspired by you my loyal and questioning readers. I thank you all so much.**

**That wonderful Beta of mine has again cast her gaze across my story, and I thank Bittersweetflames for all her efforts. Once again she has aided me in subduing those wild and rampant tenses which I struggle against mightily.**

**So what do you think, does it make sense why Scorpius often speaks as he does? If you agree or disagree, how shall I know, lest you leave me a comment in the box below. Hey that rhymes :-**

**Agree or disagree, how shall I know,  
Lest you leave me a comment in the box below.  
All reviews received are precious to me,  
Respond I shall, when my time is free.  
**


	19. Home for Christmas: Scorpius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we see what happens when the third of our four protagonists goes home for Christmas.
> 
> Scorpius's concerns about Albus's behaviour are unwarranted; until that is, he says something that causes Scorpius some concern; how you can love and hate something at the same time; and, The Lord of the Manor.
> 
>  
> 
> _He got embarrassed, and when he did so he retreated into formality. Without raising his eyes he said, "Mother, Albus is greatly overstating my involvement."_

**Note: If I was writing about Scorpion going home and speaking with his Father Derick; well then it'd all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec ... sigh ...**

**but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

* * *

 

**Chapter 19: Home for Christmas: Scorpius**

 

Scorpius' homecoming was different yet again. Like Albus, he had only been met by one of his parents, in his case it had been his mother. Unlike Albus, he'd known beforehand. Her last letter to him had informed him that apparently his father had an important meeting and couldn't make it and so she would be the only one to greet him upon his arrival at the station. His father's absence was no great surprise to Scorpius, his work was always keeping him busy. He wanted to introduce Albus to his mother, anyway, and the lack of his father's presence made it much easier.

He'd been nervous about introducing Albus to his mother for the whole train journey, it seemed like. He'd primed Albus about what to say and how to behave but Albus had reassured him, "Scorp I know how to behave. I might not have been brought up with your level of cultural refinement, but I've had to attend a fair few functions; you know, because of my dad and his job. Even some of my mum's Quidditch ones have been a bit posh." Scorpius had looked at him with a raised eyebrow and Albus had to laughingly admit, "Definitely not all of them but, sure, some have been classy. Well, one at least."

Even with this reassurance, Scorpius had fretted and had only been silenced when Albus had pointedly said, "Scorp, I really do know how to behave and I'm going to be polite as I can be. It's lucky for you that it's me you're introducing to your mother and not someone else." And they both looked across the carriage to where Rose and Dawnsfirstbloom were deep in conversation. Rose must have seen them looking, because she suddenly looked up with a, "what?" 

In the end it hadn't been too bad actually. Scorpius had to admit that his mate had been incredibly good. His own mother had been delayed but was due any moment when Albus had come back to him after being informed by his own father that one of his uncles was to be the one to actually take him home.

Albus did and said - and more importantly behaved - exactly as well as Scorpius could have possibly hoped. There was only one point that had caused him any apprehension.

His mother took to Albus well too, but Scorpius would have been surprised to see anything different - her upper class refinement would allow no less than the seeming of her partiality. Scorpius was happy to note, in only the way that a son could see, that it wasn't just for show, his mother was genuinely pleased with Albus and happy to make his acquaintance.

It was after all the pleasantries were over that his mother had asked Albus what it was like being sorted into every house. He told her a few things about each of them and remarked that it was the common rooms which stood out the most. "They're just so different from each other, but you can see how they fit how all the students are. You know what I mean? How they reflect the different houses and the characters of the students in each." And that's when he said the thing that had caused Scorpius some consternation. "It's actually because of Scorpius that it happened." 

His Mum turned from Albus and beamed at him. "Really? You didn't tell me that, Scorpius, in your correspondence."

He got embarrassed, and when he did so he retreated into formality. Without raising his eyes he said, "Mother, Albus is greatly overstating my involvement."

"Come on Scorp, you know if it wasn't for you it would never have happened." And he playfully punched his mate in the arm. Scorpius got even more embarrassed and couldn't talk at all.

The playful camaraderie did not go unnoticed by his mother. Scorpius' letters had communicated the fact that he was making friends, but she hadn't realised how deep this one, at least, went. She was delighted that her quiet, little, introverted boy, who she feared might remain friendless at Hogwarts, was actually making some true friends. And with one of the sons of Harry Potter no less; she hadn't dared believe it when Scorpius had told her of it. Her cool reserve showed none of her inner delight, except in a certain something around her eyes and a delicate smile upon her lips.

"Um, Mrs Malfoy?" Albus asked, drawing Scorpius' mother's attention.

"Yes, dear?"

"Would it be ok if Scorpius came over to my place this holidays?"

Scorpius couldn't help himself, he looked up at his mother in eager anticipation. Her response meant everything to him. His mother always kept her emotions in check, but long experience had made him able to read her and he almost sighed in relief.

"That's very kind of you," his Mother replied, "are you sure your mother would not mind?"

"No. James has all sorts of friends over all the time in the holidays, it should be OK if I have just one guy." 

"Well, if your mother says it is fine for Scorpius to visit your house and if she would let me know by owl what day would suit her, then I'm sure Scorpius would love to."

She smiled at Albus and Scorpius knew she'd picked up on his eagerness.

What Albus said next, though, almost shocked his mother enough for her to lose her composure, "No, Mrs. Malfoy, I mean not just a day, but can he come over and stay for a couple of days? I know you probably have some family thing arranged for Christmas, but if it's OK, can he come over before New Years and then stay till after? Because my dad always has this big do on New Year’s Eve and it'd be great if Scorpius could come. If that's ok? As long as you've got nothing on?"

"That's … that's very generous of you, but I'm afraid," and Scorpius closed his eyes in disappointment thinking that his mum wouldn't let him. He'd never so much as once stayed over at anyone's house for one night let alone nearly a week, but his disappointment was short lived, when she continued, "I will really need to know that your mother is prepared to have Scorpius over before that can happen."

"Don't worry Mrs. Malfoy, I'll get my mum to owl you as soon as I see her."

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Sure enough, the very next morning the Potter's owl arrived with assurances that it would be a pleasure to have Scorpius stay for as long as he or his parents wanted. Scorpius’s mother had informed him of the communication she had received personally; knocking on his door to rouse him from a delicious sleep in. He could tell she was really pleased, almost as pleased as he was himself.

But the thing was, and it had brought him to where it was now: standing in front of an old and imposing wooden door. The thing was, he needed his father's consent before he could go.

He stood there not making a sound, with his head pressed against the oaken panelling. He found he was absent mindedly fondling the wooden beading on the side of the central mullion. He caught himself doing so and he smiled as he traced the beading around one of the panels of the door. He loved this old house. It had been a wonderful place to grow up in, for a boy to play around in: a maze of hallways and rooms; the wonderful grounds with a wilderness area, the exotic greenhouses and a Hedge Maze; the secret rooms and passages. And all of it made that much better with magic: rooms and hallways that would change as the seasons did; magical plants in the grounds and in the conservatory, that made them, at certain times of the year, downright dangerous to enter; the hedge maze which would actually change its pattern every so often (always tricky if you were in it at the time); secret passageways that couldn't exist within the physical geometry of the house and magical ways to access half of them. For instance, he had found a room that would only appear every full moon and it made him wonder if an ancestor had had problems with lycanthropy.

Even despite the somewhat dark moments in its history, he still loved it. He shuddered at the memory of it; his father during one of his 'let's be completely honest' moments, had told him what Voldemort and his followers had done here. No wonder Rose didn't like him: her dad and uncle imprisoned here and even worse when her mum was tortured by his great Aunt; he didn't blame her dislike for a second. It was wondrous to him that she didn’t out and out hate him. He couldn’t believe that she was as nice to him as she was, even though he had to own that she was a bit snarky now and then. His own temper caused him to respond by going all upperclass on her in retaliation; something that he knew got under her skin. But she would actually rein in her snarkiness and actually talk to him more often than than he had any right to expect. All the bad things that his father had done to her father and the way her mother had been treated - he wondered if he would show the same tolerance towards her if their positions were switched.

But Albus, he was different. Remembering him brought Scorpius back to the here and now and why he was here. He steeled himself and screwed up all his courage. It was no surprise at all to him why the Hat hadn't, for even a moment, considered him for Gryffindor. He reached out tentatively, with a hand that surprised him wasn't shaking, and ...

... knocked quickly (before he could chicken out).

There was a muffled response from inside which could only barely be made out, but it must have been 'enter’ or the like because the door swung open by itself. That was one of the many advantages of a magical building: certain things would respond automatically to the commands of the owner. Scorpius marched forward and entered his father's study.

Speaking of the owner, there he was. Or it would be far more accurate not to describe him as merely the owner, but Lord of the Manor. Because that was exactly what he looked like ensconced in this room which was almost a movie perfect encapsulation of what the office of the Lord of a Manor should be. 

Like the doorway he had entered through, the office was lined with rich, hardwood paneling. What one could see of the walls, anyway, because they were also covered almost wall to wall with bookshelves. That was true of the wall through which Scorpius had just entered - discounting a small space for the door - and the left and the right hand walls too. They were filled with all manner of books and boxes of files and paperwork and strange items and objects - most of which were probably magical in nature and origin. 

Although that was not true of the far wall, that wall was almost entirely taken up with large, glazed french doors. They could be opened up and folded back and the occupant of the room could walk straight out into the beautiful grounds. And it was beautiful, the view through the glass doors: the gentle sloping grounds that fell away into an artificial lake, beautifully framed by trees that had been placed there to achieve that very effect a hundred or more years ago.

Dominating the room was an imposing, ancient wooden desk. It appeared solid, from the point of view of someone in front of it, but Scorpius knew that there was a multitude of draws that one could access if they were sat behind it. In front of the desk were two plush armchairs, there was space for more seating and they could be summoned if needed - as Scorpius had seen his father do on more than one occasion. And behind the desk, in a high-backed, leather, executive chair, sat his father.

"Scorpius. Come in."

Scorpius did so and stopped in front of the desk. His father had already gone back to the paperwork in front of him as Scorpius had moved through the room. Scorpius now had to wait while his father finished what he was doing. The only sounds in the room were the scratching of the metal nib across the parchment and the stately ticking of the clock upon the mantlepiece over the small hearth set into one corner of the room. It was only half a minute or so but it felt like hours as Scorpius stood there regarding his father. It wasn't calculated rudeness on his father's part, more a desire to finish what was on his mind before he had to deal with his son's interruption. Scorpius knew it was thus, it was usual, and he stood quietly and patiently awaiting his father's attention.

A heavy dot of the steel nib marked the end of the letter, and with a flourish, his father signed the sheet, set the pen down upon the table and looked over at his son.

"Welcome home, son. I am sorry, but the urgent business which precluded my attendance at the station yesterday, will also curtail this meeting." He looked up at the clock. "I can spare you ten minutes at the most, but then I must continue with my work."

"Thank you father, it is pleasant to be home and my business with you should not take more than a few minutes." He supposed that he couldn't expect much more and hid his disappointment as he was used to doing. Anyway, it would force him to come to the point that much faster. He took a deep breath, "My mother will have informed you, from our mutual correspondence ..." He paused over long, summoning up the courage to continue.

But it must have been too long, because his father filled the silence. "Yes, your mother has told me that you have been diligent and have kept to your promise of writing to her regularly. I'm impressed that you have not let the distractions of Hogwarts blind you to your duty."

"Thank you sir." _'no time like the present,'_ Scorpius thought, _'say it before you chicken out.'_ "Well she has no doubt informed you that I have made a few friends."

His father's face darkened almost imperceptibly, _'oh blast,'_ Scorpius thought, _'she must not have.'_ In one way it was comforting to Scorpius that she hadn't. He asked her about it later and she told him that their correspondence was between them, she would tell her husband any news or anything of importance, but nothing else would she speak of, that Scorpius hadn't specifically discharged her to tell.

The pleasant revelation that his mother would keep his confidences was in the future, for now he had to deal with a displeased father who was looking at him suspiciously and interrogating him, "It's not that Goyle boy is it?" 

Without giving Scorpius time to answer his father continued, "or the McNair boy or young Avery? No, McNair's probably too old and is Avery there yet? The Zabini child, I've heard good reports of, but heaven forbid, it's not Flint?" His attention had drifted away from Scorpius but now it snapped back with the last question and he stopped; contemplating the nervous face of the young man in front of him. "I do apologise son, you were saying that you have made some friends."

Scorpius swallowed. "No sir, none of those whom you mentioned, except for Zabini, he has been friendly to me. I speak instead of another boy, a boy whom, I dare say, you have never met. But sir, you have not heard why I mention the fact of my forming friendships." He swallowed, his mouth gone suddenly dry. "My new friend, my best friend, has invited me to stay within his household for a few days over the break."

His father's face hardened again, which Scorpius knew wasn't a good sign. "Who is this person, whom you say I have never met?" his father demanded.

"His name, sir, is Albus Severus Potter."

His father was a very taciturn man and very reserved with his emotions. Scorpius had seen him smile, laugh even, and become angry or upset, but it was a very rare thing. His father went through life with a seeming sense of a slight, but firm sense of disapproval. But the range of emotions that passed across his face, that he unwittingly allowed his son to observe, were unprecedented in Scorpius's memory. 

First off, there was shock as his father sat back in his chair, then it could only have been pleasure as his father actually (Scorpius couldn't believe it), actually closed his eyes in pleased surprise. Then something alarming must have occurred to him because his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes snapped open, boring into Scorpius's own.

"This is not," he said as his eyes tightened, looking into those of his son's , "not some sort of trick?" Whatever he thought his father may have said to him, it wasn't that. Scorpius was caught flat-footed unable to immediately respond, and his father filled in the silence with more questions. "He's not trying to, say, prank you and humiliate you, is he? Some sort of Gryffindor trick, because I suppose that is where he was sorted. Are you sure of his intentions?"

Scorpius got angry, well as angry as he ever allowed himself to get around his father, at least. Part of his attention saw that his father registered this fact, but he was too caught up in his emotions to care. "I assure you sir, your assumptions are entirely incorrect. I am a far better judge of character than you apparently give me credit for. Albus has been a true friend and it is far from some Gryffindor trick." And he proceeded to tell him of Albus's sorting and some of what he knew of Albus's conversation that he had had with the sorting hat. "The last he told me in confidence and I'd like your guarantee that you will not spread it further."

He stopped, panting slightly and quailed under his father's scrutiny; wanting to do nothing more than to run from the room. He knew he had scuppered his chances of going to Albus's over the holidays now. It had been years and years since he had dared to talk that way to his father, years since his father had taught him the error of doing so. He almost wanted to cry in his disappointment.

During his impassioned speech, his father had leaned forward and was now contemplating his son from behind his steepled fingers. It took some time, as he took in his son's countenance. During which Scorpius only wanted it to be over: to hear his father's denial of his request because of the impertinent way he had just spoken. His eyes slipped from his sons and shifted to something on the wall behind Scorpius. It took a moment for Scorpius to realise what his father was looking at, and then he remembered what was on the wall behind him without having to turn to look: it was that horrible red painting of the boy with a bunch of flowers. Scorpius had hated it as a little boy. He'd seen the painting on a visit to his father's study when he'd been quite young and the image had haunted his dreams for days afterwards.

His father stared at the painting, finding in it something his son obviously couldn't. He finally said, "When was this visit supposed to occur?"

Scorpius's eyes lit up with surprise and sudden hope. He hardly dared to hope. "After Christmas, Father, and over the new year."

Another pause. "Very well. You may go. I'm sure after a few months absence, your mother and I can stand a few days more."

"Thank you sir, thank you very much, father."

"Was there anything else, son? You look well at least."

"No, no. Um, yes thank you, I am well, but, ah, nothing more." And Scorpius almost raced to the door when he was dismissed by a nod from his father. He got out and halfway down a hallway before he stopped, sank down against the oaken panelling of the wall and leaned his head back against it. "Thank you, thank you," he said to himself and to the universe in general, "thank Merlin I get to go."

* * *

**  
Author’s note: Well like the two chapters before, no more like three now, this one was inspired partially by comments from you my lovely readers. Some of you wanted a bit more insight into just what drives Scorpius, what his home life must be like to have made him as he is. I hope that this little snippet answers some of those questions, but equally I hope that there is still more for you all to discover as time goes on.**

**Again this has been proofread by the wonderful Bittersweetflames and betan into shape.**

**So there is only one of our foursome left to venture home. We shall then see, shan’t we, what reception that Dawnsfirstbloom will receive.**

**As to the painting, the one that Draco looks at, well there is a story behind that, a story and a half indeed. But the point is, for you my lovely readers, it is a story that has already been written. It occurs sometime after the events of Harry Potter and the Final Year, but long before the commencement of this story. I shall post it here today, for anyone who is interested in what the painting may mean to Draco Malfoy.**

**As always any and all reviews are gratefully accepted and answered ... eventually.  
**


	20. Home for Christmas: Dawnsfirstbloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the last of our major quartet returns home for her holidays too.
> 
> What can often happen when one meets those responsible for their good fortune: a return to the Home Tunnels at last: the nature of Dawnsfirstbloom’s reception is not quite what she expected.
> 
> _“I'm, um, OK at magic I suppose,” she mumbled out, but she was better than that and her innate pride forced her to add, “they ‘aven't taught me a spell yet that I ‘aven't been able to do.”_

**Note: If I was writing about Dawnsfirstbloom going back to the home tunnels of the Deeper Delvers, then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**… hey wait a sec, Dawnsfirstbloom is mine, all mine and so are the Deeper Delvers too. BWHA HA HA!**

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.**

The chapter image is painted by myself.

* * *

 

**Chapter 20: Home for Christmas: Dawnsfirstbloom**

 

The initial reception that Dawnsfirstbloom received was better than anyone else out of the four of the friends; but it unfortunately didn’t stay that way.

There was a contingent of goblins all dressed in light body armour on the station to greet Dawnsfirstbloom and all the other goblin students. They were the Witchguard. Their cadre had been formed shortly after the first goblin, Lightsthefire, had started her schooling. Her bodyguard had sworn his allegiance to her personally under the old, old goblin customs - ones that dated back to the middle ages. Then, as only two goblins followed her to Hogwarts in the next three years, the goblin hierarchy came to realise just how rare goblin wizards were going to be. And for seven years, they would be fairly defenceless, not being allowed to use magic outside of school except in the direst of circumstances. Some sort of bodyguard system was needed, Lightsthefire had shown the way yet again.

Goblins as a race were very pragmatic, they took on what worked and discarded what didn’t -- eventually, at least. The Smiths, for instance, were an ultimate piece of pragmatism. The Goblins had found that there were some amongst their number who were almost genetically programmed to be selfless and to put the needs of everyone before their own needs and those of their tribe’s. So, naturally, they were put in charge. In the years that followed Lightsthefire first attending Hogwarts, the combined clans came to a unanimous decision - that the precious commodities that were goblin wizards belonged to them all, all clans equally. Oh sure, their individual loyalties would remain and they would be free to promote the causes of their individual tribes and clans, but their wizarding abilities would be made available to goblin society as needed.

So some sort of cadre of goblins were needed to protect them, ones who would forgo their clan and tribal loyalties and swear allegiance to the entirety of goblin society as a whole. It wouldn’t matter what tribe a goblin wizard was from, even one that a guard was formerly at odds with, the guard would protect them with their life. And so the Witchguard was born. Each year, as the ranks of the goblin wizards swelled by one, so too did the witchguard increase its number by one from the ranks of hopefuls eager to join.

It had surprised them all to see Albus's father with the Witchguard. It shouldn’t have been that surprising, as the Witchguard were technically part of the Auror’s office. Using his connections between both the Ministry and Goblin society, Harry had brought them in to give them legal status under wizarding law. It hadn’t been that popular to begin with, but it soon changed, after the life of a human wizard had been saved, for the first time, by the Witchguard. Ironshieldheld of the Witchguard had happened to be in the right place at the right time and had thwarted a dark wizard attack at great personal cost - she had lost an arm doing so. After that, most of the complaints had stopped.

Dawnsfirstbloom didn't know at first who he was, but Albus's shouted, 'Dad,' soon gave it away.

"Hi Albus, how was your first term?"

"Great, dad, but..." and with a gesture indicated the other Aurors and the heavily armed goblins.

"I'm not here to meet you, well actually I guess I am, but I'm not here to retrieve you. Your mother is coming later: she should have been here, but was sidetracked by something for work." Albus nodded his understanding and his father continued to say, "I'm afraid I have to do this," he paused and then with a grin he turned to one of the goblin guards and corrected himself, "rather it is my duty and my pleasure to escort the Goblin students back home."

The goblin he addressed was continually surveying the crowd around them, he didn’t even look in Albus’ father’s direction. All that happened was that the side of the goblin's mouth twitched upwards and he said, "Smith," and nodded in acknowledgement.

"Hi Rose."

"Hi there, Uncle Harry."

"Did you have a good time too?"

"Oh it was great," she replied and saw that her Uncle was looking past her at Dawnsfirstbloom who was stood just next to her. "Oh, Uncle Harry, may I introduce my best friend Dawnsfirstbloom?"

Uncle Harry smiled down at them. "That's one of the main reasons I'm here. I heard that I have a new clan sister who started at Hogwarts this year, so I asked to join the detail assigned to escort them home."

Rose looked around and down at her friend and almost burst into laughter at Dawnsfirstbloom's expense. The normally gregarious, outgoing goblin whom you usually couldn't get to shut up, was standing there stunned in fanish amazement. Rose couldn't resist it and nudged her in the side, but the goblin girl hardly noticed it at all, because Uncle Harry was stretching out his hand to shake and that was commanding all of her little friend's attention. She shook it almost in a daze, but suddenly must have remembered herself; remembered who it was she was shaking the hand of. She dropped the hand and dropped herself into a low curtsey. "Smith Potter, Sir. It Is An Honour To Meet You!" she said half mechanically and too loudly.

Laughingly, he gently chided her over her reaction and eventually got her to a point where she wasn't bowing to him every second. Rose took her leave about then, giving her a hug and a kiss, which was nice. Dawnsfirstbloom hadn't expected such a public display. For one thing it was unlike Rose, who could be so hard at times and seemingly unfeeling. For another, there were a lot of parents and adults around and, even though goblin and human relations were at an all time high, she knew that they weren't that high everywhere.

Once Smith Potter had confirmed that all the goblin students had gathered, he led them from the station to the awaiting ministry cars.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

The arrival at Gringotts wasn’t marked with any particular fanfare, goblin students had been coming home from Hogwarts for almost two decades now. No, more attention was afforded Smith Potter, but he politely turned everyone away with a, “I’m on official Witchguard duty; if you care to wait for me, I’ll be back this way in a while.” The students went from there out into the Greater London tunnels by the tunnel cart system., If they were going further afield, they left by floo - going on their way out to the parts of England where they would spend their holidays. Shineofiron hadn't made the trip this time, she lived far closer to Hogwarts than London. So she had stayed there and was going to be picked up in a day or so by members of her own tribe who had business in Hogsmeade.

It came down to Nimblehand and her, then he left her as well and went to the Banking Clan tunnels. She wished him well and he reiterated that she had promised to keep quiet about the Goblin care packages and she reassured him that she would. _"You know, he's not so bad for a banking knob,"_ she thought.

The human guards had been dismissed, most of the Witchguard had gone out in the tunnel carts and even Smith Potter had gone. But not before he shook her hand, again! And Rose just called him 'Uncle Harry' like it was nothing. The reason coming back to her why she had been so stunned on the station: she had suddenly realised that this man, standing before her was the reason that she was allowed to go to Hogwarts. If not for him, she probably would have spent the rest of her life scrubbing pans or fixing cracks in the tunnel walls. It had come crashing down upon her when she first saw him on the station and it had rendered her speechless.

Everyone had gone their own ways until it was just Dawnsfirstbloom and a guard left standing there in awkward silence. "Well," said Dawnsfirstbloom rocking back and forth on her toes, "if that's all, I'll be off home."

"No, Miss, I have to go with you and stay with you too."

That piece of information, though she wasn't really aware of it at the time, was where it all started to go wrong. As the days wore on she began to realise, more and more, that her life was now changed and her life as a goblin, amongst other goblins, was very much not her own. She didn't truly begin to grasp this fact until she reached the home tunnels. 

Dawnsfirstbloom was happy to see that her mum and dad were there to greet her. Hers was not one of the bigger more progressive Clans, where all youngsters were raised in creches together; hardly knowing their real mums and dads. It was one of the things that differentiated the Deeper Delvers from the Deep Delvers.

Her mum and dad were nice enough welcoming her back, but there was something off about them - something was not quite right - she couldn't exactly put a finger on it, however. Her dad wasn't much of a talker normally, wasn't effusive in his affections, but she could always see his reserved smile that barely anyone else could discern; except probably her mother. He hugged her in welcome - nothing unusual there - but when she looked up into his face she couldn't see his regular smile. It wasn't worry on his face, it was ... not quite right.

Her mum was far more warm; with, 'hello's' and, 'how are you's' and, 'what was it like's'. Her dad has just said, "hello, tunnel-worm." The equivalent for humans would have been 'hello chicken.' And even though her Mum hugged her and kissed her, Dawnsfirstbloom couldn't help notice her mum’s nervousness - her Mum’s eyes and attention kept flicking to the other goblins in the room.

Dawnsfirstbloom pulled herself away from her mother slightly and began to answer the barrage of questions. Just with a , ‘yes,’ or a, ‘no,’ or a, ‘it was alright,’ because her attention was now focused upon her surroundings. She had begun to have a strange feeling that everything wasn’t quite right so she was taking a good look around, but it all appeared to be the same as usual. 

She was standing in the main tunnel cart room at the public end of their tribe’s Home Tunnels. It was the same basic design that would belong to any small tribe. Similar to most tunnel cart station rooms anywhere in the Greater London tunnels: stone walls, stone floor, stone ceiling. Her practiced eye could make out the signs that the room had originally been formed in the ‘Never When.’ The carts came in from one end of the room behind her, through a large open stone doorway and then exited the room through another large doorway in the left hand side wall. There was a spur that led to a smaller doorway set into the back wall that led to the tribe’s Home Tunnels. The tracks that ran through the room were not tracks as such, more metal shod grooves in the stone floor. In the cart tunnels they were more like regular ‘train tracks’ with sleepers holding up the metal tracks, but that would be impractical where you had to get out and walk around, as you’d always be tripping over the tracks and sleepers.

All in all, things were similar to ninety percent of the tunnel stations rooms everywhere she’d seen. The only thing different, and it was different for every station, was the Clan or tribe symbol over the doorway to the Home Tunnels. The sign of the Deeper Delvers was a horizontal bar under which was a circle and under that was a larger circle. Behind her, over the doorway through which she’d arrived, was a symbol indicating it led back to the main tunnel systems. The Deeper Delvers were at the end of the line. The other major exit led not to any populated areas, but to the mines where the tribe worked. There was a lucrative but dangerous Nexus of the Other-Wheres which the intrepid miners of the tribe dared to exploit.

So there was nothing different than when she’d left just a few months ago. That's when she began to notice the other goblins present in the room. There was the guard, a hard-faced taciturn sort of goblin, at whom her mother was casting the odd concerned looks. But it was where her Mother was deliberately avoiding to look, that caught Dawnfirstbloom's attention.

The other goblins had held back, but now they were beginning to advance as the conversation with her Mum was stumbling to a halt. Realisation of the awkward way that her Mother’s questions had died out, snapped her attention back to her Mum. Her Mother had stopped talking. Her Dad had his hands on her Mother's shoulders and was backing them both away. Dawnsfirstbloom thought she heard him say, ‘it'll be alright dear,’ but it wasn’t very loud and she didn’t hear it properly because her attention was fixed upon her mother's face. There was an expression upon her face that Dawnsfirstbloom had never seen before and, what's more, couldn't even begin to understand. The only thing she knew was that it wasn't a happy expression.

Dawnsfirstbloom moved slightly to start to go with her parents, but before she could the other goblins were in her way. Dawnsfirstbloom recognised most of them, as anyone would who was raised in a small community. They were mostly male and were the leaders and the higher-ups of the tribe.

One had detached himself from the others and stood ahead of the rest. Dawnsfirstbloom recognised him as the Chief of their tribe. They still had a Chief. In this and in some other ways they were an old fashioned tribe. The larger and more progressive Clans has done away with the hereditary rulers, amongst other things, but her chief could trace his lineage back to the Lord of the great Clan, before the Schism, when there had been only the Clan of the Deep Delvers. The splinter group had prospered and had kept the Clan status and the name of the Deep Delvers. Whereas the clan that was, had withered and shrunk due to bad luck and bad management. To keep some semblance of their pride and respect, the original Clan had refashioned their name into the Deeper Delvers but, due to their decreasing fortunes, were stripped of their Clan status and became merely a tribe.

Dawnsfirstbloom suddenly realised what was going on: somebody important was coming and she had gotten in their way. There was no other reason for all these dignitaries, dressed up in all their posh clothes, to be here - they wouldn't be gathered here for anything less than a visit by a High-up from another clan. 

Now, more than ever, she wanted to go off with her mum and dad and get out of their way She went to move out the way and to do so, but something restrained her.

The voice of her guard quietly said from behind her, “No, you stays here, Little Miss.”

Before she could even register her surprise, the Chief was in front of her. Dawnsfirstbloom couldn't, for the life of her, remember the name of the chief. Even though he was the father of one of her close friends, most of the time she'd just referred to him as Chief.

“Ah, young Dawnsfirstbloom, ‘ere you are.”

She wasn't starstruck by his presence. It was a smallish tribe after all and she’d met the Chief both in public and in private; not often, but more so than others might have, because of his son. So she was a lot easier with him than she might otherwise have been, but there was a way you could interact with him in private and a very different way in public. She began to fall back and she reacted from habitual instincts and sunk into a deep curtsey. “I'm sorry my Chieftain, I'll get out of your way for whoever important it is you’re ‘ere to get.”

When her head was bowed, she didn’t see the smirk cross his face, nor did she catch the nod and a wink that he gave the other members of the tribal council.

He chuckled. “No, Dawnsfirstbloom, it is you we are ‘ere to greet.”

At her suddenly upturned and surprised face, he started to laugh in earnest. The other councillors all began to laugh along with him to a greater or lesser degree.

“Dawnsfirstbloom, you are now in an important member of our tribe. Our first ever wand carrying Witch. We are ‘ere to welcome you back ‘ome.”

Dawnsfirstbloom was feeling a bit stunned and was only half paying attention as the chief introduced her to the other councillors. Some of whom she had seen here and there while she was growing up and a few she didn’t know except as obviously important Elders. The surreal thing was that they were now shaking her hand and saying how much of an honour it was to meet her.

They had all been saying things to her, but it was the fourth or fifth, it could have even been the sixth - Dawnsfirstbloom simply could not keep track of the faces sufficiently to remember which one it was - who said something that made everyone shut up and the sudden silence caught Dawnfirstbloom's attention.

“What?”

“Um,” said the older lady Goblin, Dawnsfirstbloom vaguely remembered her name as being something like Sowtheseed. She paused after her hesitant ‘um’, but the chief gave her a subtle nod for her to continue. “I said it must be exciting learning magic and, um, I wondered ‘ow good you were.”

Dawnsfirstbloom’s gaze flicked around the circle of adults and in the oppressive silence she couldn't meet any of their eyes. “I'm, um, OK I suppose,” she mumbled out to no one in particular. But she was better than that and her innate pride forced her to add, “they ‘aven't taught me a spell yet that I ‘aven't been able to do.” A bit of defiance creeping into her voice. She missed adding the _‘eventually’_ that she'd only said in her head.

She risked looking up at the adults and was relieved to see that they were all relieved. The tension of the strange silence was gone and the adults looked pleased. She felt someone pat her on the shoulder and another adult said, “good, good.”

“Um,” began Dawnsfirstbloom, “can I go ‘ome now? It's been a long day.” And it had been, with the train trip and now all of this on top of it. She wasn't lying when she said, “I'm very tired and I'd like to go ‘ome, if that's ok your ‘onours?”

“Of course young Dawnsfirstbloom, of course,” said the Chief all jovial, all smiles, all pats on her back.

“Ok, I'll just find my mum.” And she tried to look around the bodies of the circle of adults that surrounded her, but there was no sign of neither her mum nor her dad where they had been standing before. Then she remembered that of course she didn't live with her Mum and Dad anymore. It had all switched around just before she got her letter for Hogwarts. They had been moved from the accommodation for ‘working parents with a single young child’. Her parents had moved into quarters for ‘married couples with no or all grown up children’, and she'd gone into the quarters for ‘adolescent workers and trainees’. She'd only been there for a month or so before she moved to Hogwarts. So she supposed she would go back to her bunk there, at least it would be with her mates.

The Chief was saying something and she had to pull herself back into the present. “I'm sorry sir what did you say?”

He chuckled at her, “I said, young Dawnsfirstbloom, that you don't belong where you were anymore. You will now live in the Smith quarters when you are ‘ere.”

 

\--o-O-o--

 

She didn't get that much sleep her first night due to the strangeness of her surroundings. 

She knew that was a bit odd, because she had just been living somewhere where everything was strange. But that was the point, it was everything: the food; the company; the rooms; the beds. When everything was strange, nothing stood out, nothing was jarring. Unlike, how this bedroom was. She had lived her whole life in these goblin tunnels and there was nowhere in them, that she'd ever seen, which was as strange to her as this bedroom was. In the tunnels, space is at such a premium when every bit of it has to be dug out of the rock. Her bed, when she had lived with her Mum and Dad, was, quite literally, a hole in the wall. Bunks were the order of the day when she lived with the other teenagers. But this bedroom was huge and opulent. Yeah, so was the one at Hogwarts, but it was only huge compared to her tiny frame. It was fairly normal sized for humans and it wasn’t out of place in the spacious castle. The bed and the room that she was now in was a waste of space in this place where space was costly and precious. There were signs that up till now it had been used for storage - the tribe hadn’t had a Smith for over a hundred years and the room hadn’t been needed till now. But now that it had been cleaned out and spruced up, it just reeked of opulence for its own sake.

Jarring.

But then, after a few days home, the opulent accommodation was the least of her concerns. 

Her first day was largely taken up with a big meeting in the town hall where she'd been paraded around like a prize niffler. There had hardly been time for anything like this back in early September when she had received her letter; there had been such a big rush on to get her stuff and get her prepared for school, that there had been no time. 

Part of the reason that she had no real time to prepare, was that she thought her letter had all been one big joke. 

The goblin kids all knew that when they turned eleven, some goblin somewhere was going to become the latest witch or wizard. So there were always plenty of fake letters that were sent by goblin kids, whose nature ran to practical jokes, to other goblin kids, whose nature ran to gullibility. Dawnsfirstbloom and her friends had even done it once themselves to a goblin from another tribe who was such a pain in the arse that he deserved any practical joke that came his way. So it was that, when she got her letter, she immediately threw it to one side - thinking ‘ha ha, very funny’ - and promptly forgot about it. Months later one of her bunk-mates had found it and it soon came out that none of them had sent the letter. It was only then that Dawnsfirstbloom had suddenly realised that it could, just possibly, be for real.

That was half a year ago now, and sitting here on the stage, listening to the Chief and especially some of the councillors drone on and on, that she almost wished that it had been fake. She supposed that there had to be something official sometime, tribe-wise and that she couldn’t get out of it forever. The time was now and she had to grin and bear it. What would have made it bearable was if her goblin friends had been there, but either they weren't or she didn't see them.

The second day saw her in the same hall, but now minus the overwhelming crowd. She was sitting in a chair up on the raised dais, same as she was the previous day, but this time instead of the crowd there was a stream of goblin after goblin coming forward and airing their petty grievances: ‘Ironbrow was extending his tunnel and chipped into my living room’: ‘I was sold niffler nose hair but it was really dyed tunnel mole hair’: ‘I did fall into Gypsumseamgleaming’s produce, but I was shoved in the back by those tunnel rats; Ironseam and his lot. Back in my day they would have already been down the mines.’

Dawnsfirstbloom had to sit there through it all; every boring single complaint and some of them were really, really petty. What made it worse was when the Chief would turn to her and ask her opinion. Some of the cases seemed much clearer than others, but she swore she was never asked about those ones. 

It was only those ones like the complaint of old Mrs Straightshaftthrough. Yeah, she was pushed and it wasn’t her fault, but trying to nail down Ironseam would be an exercise in futility. Dawnsfirstbloom knew him. He was a couple of years younger than her and always getting into mischief, but there was not a malicious bone in his body. He was like a goblin version of Albus’ older brother James. Ironseam wouldn’t deliberately push over an old lady, so if it was him he only pushed her by accident, and what’s more, all that was damaged were a couple of cabbages, some tunnel-shrooms and a leek - all of which Straightshaftthrough bought anyway. The whole thing with the elderly goblin, seemed to Dawnsfirstbloom to be, was that all Straightshaftthrough wanted, was to have someone listen to her complain about the youth of today and to offer the chief some pickled cabbage. There was no clear resolution that Dawnsfirstbloom could see at all and in the end, nothing came of it.

The next few days were spent mostly in committee and council meetings. 

On the first day she had felt like she was on show. The second day she felt out of place, who was she, such a young goblin, to be sitting in judgement upon the members of her tribe? But by the third day she was bored out of her mind. 

Meetings! 

Never again would she complain about Binns’ History of Magic lessons. He might drone on and on, but at least the subject he was talking about was at least somewhat interesting. But in the council meeting, they just droned on and on. All of it was dry and incredibly uninteresting stuff: zoning legislation, mining reports, etc. The majority of the first day, they re-read the minutes of the last meeting - for almost the whole day! There had been a break since the last meeting - Dawnsfirstbloom didn't find out why or how long had it been - so they needed to refresh everyone's memories. That was before lunch, after lunch they just argued about points from the minutes. It was only on the second day of the council meeting that the first piece of new business was actually brought up.

Dawnsfirstbloom bore it all stoically, as stoically as she could, because in a few days time they would finally let her see her friends.

* * *

**  
Author’s Note: Well all the kids have finally gone home for the Christmas holidays. In the other chapters, I used them to give us all a bit of exposition via their parents, about things that my readers had raised with me, or that I knew needed a bit further explanation. But this one, I wanted to explore a bit about the place and certain aspects of the culture from which Dawnsfirstbloom came. I hope you all liked it.**

**You might be wondering what exactly were the ‘Never When’ and the ‘Other Where’ all about. Well, I’m afraid, you will just have to keep wondering, but all will be explained when Rose joins Dawnsfirstbloom to go back to the tunnels at the end of the school year - in about eight or nine chapters time! BWA HA HA!!!!!**

**Again I have to thank my wonderful Beta Dawnsfirstbloom who, once I had sorted out my communications problems with her, came through on the editing for me so that I could get this chapter out.  
**


	21. Home for Christmas: Dawnsfirstbloom part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dawnsfirstbloom finds that not everything about her return home is as she would want it to be.
> 
> Meetings, interminable meetings: the differences in the zoning laws as relates to applications in the real world; Listeners ne'er hear good of themselves; what a difference a few months apart can make to friendships.
> 
> _In the quickest bit of thinking that she had had to do for the longest time, Dawnsfirstbloom said, “Am I missing something?”_

**Note: If I was writing about Dawnsfirstbloom going back to the home tunnels of the Deeper Delvers, then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

… hey wait a sec, Dawnsfirstbloom is mine, all mine and so are the Deeper Delvers too. BWHA HA HA!

... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.

* * *

 

Chapter 21: Home for Christmas: Dawnsfirstbloom part two 

 

All through all of the tedious hours of all of the meetings, Dawnsfirstbloom was just biding her time. As she wasn’t the most patient of goblins in the first place, Rose would have been proud of her. She had a sudden start of guilt when she caught herself thinking that, because her old friends would have been proud of her too. Was it bad that she thought of her new friend first?

Her old friends should have been uppermost on her mind at the moment. The thought of seeing them soon was the only thing keeping her sane. Tomorrow, it was tomorrow that she would see them all. 

It couldn’t come fast enough.

She looked over at one of the councilors who was droning on about … she engaged her cognitive faculties for a moment … something about tunnel zoning permission in the higher levels of the home tunnels and how the significant changes to the legislation proposed allowed a category two zoning to be merged with a category 3.4 and how this would negatively impact upon blah blah blah ...

She disengaged her brain from the conversation and went back to drawing on her pad, in biro. Oh - she did a squiggle - oh, how she missed ballpoint pens. Why on earth did the wizarding world still use quills made out of feathers? Scorpius had the right idea, he had this beautiful fountain pen that he sucked the ink up into out of the inkwells when potions got boring. She had to get herself one, she just had to, and at least advance into nineteenth century technology.

She wondered what he was doing now, what Albus and especially Rose were doing. Bet they didn’t have to sit through boring meetings. She bet they were out running around and having fun.

No, she couldn’t think about them since she’d see them again in a couple of weeks, she had to focus on her old friends whom she’d see tomorrow. Hopefully they’d get the rest of the week and the whole of the weekend off and all of them could do something together. She had saved some of her scholarship money - an easy task while she was in first year and couldn’t go and spend it all on Hogsmeade weekends. She was planning on taking them up to London above and treating them all; spending the money, letting them buy their own Christmas gifts. The treat, she knew, would be every bit because they would be spending money for themselves, as much as for the things they would buy. It was a very rare occasion that anyone of her old friends would ever see that much money in the first place, let alone get to spend it on themselves.

She just couldn’t wait.

She tuned in to the meeting to see if it was nearly over …

“… can’t be serious.”

“I am perfectly serious. What the councilor fails to grasp is that zoning law 3.4 in all practical purposes is identical to the way that zoning law 2 is implemented in regards to single occupant tunnels in the real world. If the councilor wants to …”

… and apparently it wasn’t.

She went back to doodling and drawing manticores - badly - on the paper in front of her. She didn’t have Rose’s talent with drawing, let alone the awesome talent that Evan Thomas had. He could make his drawings come alive: literally. He showed the class a bit of the technique when they were doing drawings in the Making Stuff class. His father had taught him the use of the special paints and techniques for making wizarding paintings that could actually move around on the canvas.

Dawn could draw after a fashion, not quite as well as Rose could. Rose would have been even better if she practiced more, but it always surprised Dawnsfirstbloom that her friend had time enough in the day to do all that she did, let alone practice something else. Even when Rose was sitting and doing nothing she wasn’t; she was crocheting or knitting a scarf or hat or something-or-other.

There was a particular cartoony manticore that Dawnsfirstbloom liked to draw, something that she’d been drawing since she was a little kid and had seen her first picture of one in a book. She varied her drawings slightly to make it a picture of a mountain manticore - that lived in the Carpathians and could shoot spines out of their tails - or a picture of a common manticore - that lived on the Greek islands and into areas of the Middle East and had a stinger on their tails. In her doodling she had just drawn one that she’d made too fuzzy and turned it into a ‘mantisheep’. She let out a snort of laughter.

She suddenly found, to her dismay, that the whole council table was looking at her. In the quickest bit of thinking that she had had to do for the longest time, she said, “Am I missing something?”

Some of the stares of the councilors turned patronising, but they changed as Dawnsfirstbloom said, “Surely the zoning regulations of 3.2 are almost identical to those in 3.4. Shouldn’t you be thinking of merging the whole of the threes before even thinking about merging 3.4 with two?”

A couple of councilors laughed, but a couple said, “Hear, hear,” and, “I couldn’t agree more.”

One of the ones who had laughed at her, said to the councilor who had supported Dawnsfirstbloom’s question, “What the councilor obviously fails to remember is that the provisions for goblin owned businesses under 3.2 are so vastly different from those in 3.4. Why in the nature of allowable floor coverings alone …”

… and they were off again and Dawnsfirstbloom could once more disengage her brain from the proceedings. What she failed to see was the appraising look the chief sent her way. Like Dawnsfirstbloom, he was too wise to be drawn into the frankly stupid debate that raged around him. The zoning regulations were often farcical and were imposed upon them by the edicts of the greater Clan to which they belonged; often enough, their tribe chose to ignore them in practice. It had been very clever of the young witch to say what she had and, for a moment, it gave him pause; had he had chosen the right course of action?

 

\--o-O-o--

 

When the meeting was finally over, Dawnsfirstbloom went to pack up her stuff to leave - a fairly simple matter considering she really only had a pen and a pad and a glass of water. But she was delayed by one of the councilors who questioned her about magic, and living with humans, and living aboveground, and etcetera, and so on. Dawnsfirstbloom politely started to answer her, but she was only halfway through responding to her questions when the councilor suddenly looked at her watch exclaiming, “Is that the time?” And sped off out of the council room leaving Dawnsfirstbloom mid sentence and a bit put out. She still had to pick up her stuff and she realised that since she was the last one there, she also had to pack up all the cups and glasses. She bet it had been that particular councilor’s turn and she had ducked out on purpose to avoid the clean up.

It was soon done however, and Dawnsfirstbloom left to find her guard, Slowsteel, and go back to her rooms. She pushed through the doors of the meeting room, but didn’t go anywhere. She slumped her shoulders as she realised that she had to pull the doors towards her; things just weren’t going her way tonight. She pulled open the door and entered the hallway. It was really more like a small foyer, with corridors and other doorways running off from it. It was wide enough that it required several pillars to help support the roof; two of which flanked the doors she had just opened. They partially blocked her sight of the room and also concealed her presence from anyone else in the room who wasn’t directly in front of her. She heard voices from one side - just some councilors chatting after the meeting she thought - and was just going to walk out into the hallway proper when she heard her name.

She stopped and listened in.

“... young Dawnsfirstbloom won’t be with us tomorrow, she’s meeting her friends,’ said a female voice.

“Yeah, I know,” said another voice, this time male.

“So that’ll be good for her.”

“I don’t think so,” contradicted the male.

“I’m sure you’re wrong,” the female goblin replied. The more that she heard her talk, Dawnsfirstbloom was sure she was the same councilor who stopped her at the end of the meeting to ask her questions. “I don’t think that she liked the council meetings much, even though they are a necessary evil of running our community.”

“No, I am sure you are quite correct, she didn’t like the meetings much, but who knew she knew anything about the zoning laws. What she said almost spoiled all of our plans, if..”

He was cut off as the other goblin shushed him. “We’ll talk about that later.”

That was a bit strange, Dawnsfirstbloom thought, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it as the two goblins kept talking.

“um, yes, I … ah,” the male councilor faltered, then in a far more assured tone he said, “Yes. But what I meant was nothing about the council meetings, but about ‘er meeting ‘er friends.” He tried to hide it by talking a bit posh, but occasionally the accent that identified him as coming from her home-tunnels slipped out.

“Whatever do you mean?” the female councilor asked, and now that Dawnsfirstbloom was listening out for it, she could tell from her accent that the female goblin must have married into the tribe. She shouldn’t be getting distracted because the councilor was asking what Dawnsfirstbloom was wanting to know, “Surely, Dawnsfirstbloom is looking forward to seeing her friends once more?”

“She might be, but her friends, or should I say former friends, are not so much.”

Dawnsfirstbloom was stunned and she fell into the wall she was standing against.

“Go on,” The female councilor prompted and Dawnsfirstbloom silently thanked her.

“Well, none of them wanted to come to see her. Not a single one.”

“Not even the Chief’s son?”

“Oh, Stronghand has to come. The chief wouldn’t expect any less of his son and whatever else you say about him, the cob obeys his father.”

“But why wouldn’t he and the rest want to come?” Dawnsfirstbloom silently praised the female goblin for asking exactly what she most desperately wanted to know the answers to.

“They think she’s gotten too big for them, don’t they?. Gone off to wizarding school, consorting with humans; too good for the likes of them. She wrote one letter to them, apparently, talking about all her new, human friends and all the spells and stuff she’s learning. After that, I don’t think she wrote to them at all: no more letters, no more communication, nothing. They got the message - she has new friends and doesn’t want to know them.”

“I don’t know,” said the female goblin, “that doesn’t sound like the Chief’s son at all. He always seemed to me to be a bit …”

“Simple, do you mean?” the male goblin supplied and laughed somewhat nastily, but then he sobered. “Well, you’re right. For Stronghand, it’s a bit different. He thinks she’s ‘unnatural’.”

“He’s not,” she asked, surprise in her voice, “one of those GrG sympathises, is he?”

“Apparently so, been seen going to actual ‘Goblins are Goblins’ meetings and all. Not only that, but he’s started taking his mate, you know the orphan cob, along to one or two of the meetings with him.”

“Oh and I thought that Littlehook had some brains,” the female councilor sounded disappointed. “So they are not going to meet her, to see Dawnsfirstbloom tomorrow?”

“Of course they are. We couldn’t ‘ave our new witch being so disappointed, could we?. No, the Chief will make his son go and where he goes the orphan cob will follow; he has enough brains to know where his pick axe is sharpened. The girl was the hardest to convince.”

“Really, I thought Bittersweetflames was her best friend?”

“Was, is the operative word. Personally, she says to me; did she have to ‘see that stuck up orc’.” Dawnsfirstbloom almost cried out at the revelation: calling a goblin an orc was a really bad insult. It meant that you might look like a goblin on the outside, but you were human on the inside.

There was a shocked intake of breath from the female councilor, “She never?”

“Yes, she did. Do you know how I managed to finally get her to say she’d come?”

“No, how?”

“I had to bribe her. Promised her a week off from the kitchens and a trip to the Cornish tunnels as a treat.”

“Oh poor Dawnsfirstbloom, I hope she never finds out.”

“Me too,” the male councilor agreed, “ we don’t need an angry witch on our hands. That reminds me, I have to check on Bittersweetflames; even with the promise of the bribe, she still didn’t want to come." There was a slight pause and then he suddenly blurted out, "oh, is that the time? I have to go, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’d better be going too.”

Dawnsfirstbloom could hear the sound of the two older goblins leaving and she slowly slid down the wall, her head spinning from what she had just heard. Her mind was a mass of thoughts. So many different things competing for her conscious attention, fighting to be heard.

It couldn’t be true, but it sounded like them all.

But nasty, so nasty - her friends were not like that.

It was like their character traits, but twisted, it wasn’t them.

Was it?

But some of it rang so true.

She held her head in her hands and rested her elbows upon her knees trying to steady her thoughts; to bring them back under her control and work her way to the truth of it all.

How could they think that she was stuck up? But then she had a flash of realisation and embarrassment. She hadn’t really written to them much, had she. There was the one letter written the week after she got to Hogwarts with ‘I’m here and I’m safe’ and there was another one a bit later filled with ‘all-the-crazy-things-humans-do’ sort of stuff. It was full of stuff Rose did, like her name on the seat thing and the hats for the House-elves that she kept making and how she got up early and ran every morning.

Then Dawnsfirstbloom came to a crushing realisation, it had all been about Rose, Rose, Rose, with tiny bits about Scorpius and Albus too. It might have been poking fun at them a bit, but it was all about her new friends. And she could see it now, exactly what Bittersweetflames must have thought; Dawnsfirstbloom had almost replaced them one for one. Her old friends were two boys and a girl, her new friends were two boys and a girl. The girl was strong willed and opinionated, snap. One of the boys was kind and liked by all, snap. The other was a bit of an outsider who was trying to find his place in the world, snap. And her letter had been full of them all and, basically all the fun that she’d been having.

And her last letter, viewed in this light was simply awful. It had been a quick missive, penned when she needed pictures of her costume and the one for Rose; the ones that they’d eventually made and worn for Halloween. The letter was barely a paragraph long, asking Bittersweetflames for a print out of Dawnsfirstbloom’s character and - oh, her heart plummeted to her stomach as she realised - and the character that she got Rose to dress up as was almost the exact same one as her friend played in the game. Oh no, how must Bittersweetflames have felt, she thought, no wonder she didn’t get a reply.

Hang on for a second, she thought, she might have only written two letters and a bit, but at least she’d written some. Dawnsfirstbloom had received none back from them at all, none. How dare they think the worst of her when they hadn’t even tried to say anything back to her even once?

And what were Bittersweetflames and Littlehook thinking letting Stronghand get involved with the GrG. Dawnsfirstbloom knew that they existed, but very remotely. She should pay more attention to them she supposed, the one goblin terrorist organisation that wanted her dead. The Goblins are Goblins movement had sprung up in a small way after Lightsthefire had first received her wand. The GrG who had enough sense not to make the English acronym of their name otherwise they would have been GAG. They gained in popularity after goblins started sharing their ancient secrets with the wizards. They claimed that the goblins were goblins and none should ever become wizards. It was particularly stupid and wrong headed - goblin wizards had done nothing but benefit goblinkind as a whole. But bigots would always be bigots and idiots would always be idiots.

The GrG was responsible for a couple of nasty incidents that culminated in the death of a young goblin wizard, who had been back home from Hogwarts on his Holiday break. It had been quite a few years ago now, but the memory of it was still fresh. Since that incident, they had been stamped on hard, and had lost a considerable amount of sympathy from the goblin society at large. The leadership of the movement had disavowed any association with violent acts, so they still existed, but their numbers and support had dwindled till they were just seen as a fringe organisation with a shady past. The authorities kept a close eye upon them, but they tended to keep attracting the young or the stupid or the disenfranchised.

If Stronghand was mixed up with them …

It didn’t really sound like him, except … it was a bit unkind of her to think it, but he was young and, this was the unkind bit, he wasn’t that smart. He was not stupid, but he was definitely below average intelligence. Combine that with a propensity for gullibility and it made for a combo that was easily led. 

When they were all younger and had gone off to the main Clan tunnels for their education and training, he had gone with a different group, being just a bit older and the son of the Chief. The stuff that the kids in the other group would tell him was quite often horrible rubbish. It had enough truth in it to fool someone of his limited mental capacity and he would swallow it as the absolute truth. It would take ages for her and Bittersweetflames and especially Littlehook to disabuse him of his newly acquired, mistaken beliefs.

Stupid things like tunnel worms that could grow as large as a couple of tunnel carts. It was these giant worms, he’d been told, that had made the whole tunnel cart system; eating out the dirt and stone as they went. There were still wild ones, they had told him, living in the bottom of the deep tunnels and when they got too sick of rock and hungry for flesh - which they did for some unexplained reason - they would dig their way up till they found goblins to consume. The poor cob had been afraid to go to sleep for weeks.

Nasty stuff like that he could be fooled into believing. So if he’d gotten mixed up with the GrG, well … put it this way, it wasn’t in the realms of sheer impossibility.

But to have Littlehook follow him into it?

That didn’t really make much sense. Because he did have brains, lots of really smart brains. Also, Dawnsfirstbloom didn’t believe for a moment that he would only follow the chief’s son because that was where he knew his pickaxe was sharpened - or as humans would say, ‘bread was buttered.’ No he wasn’t as greedy or as venal as that made him sound.

He wouldn't have followed Stronghand into the meetings for that reason, but if he’d found that Stronghand was attending the meetings he might have followed him in to try and protect him - save the Chief’s son from his own lack of common sense. But while he was there, while he was amongst the GrG, if some of the poison they spewed had slipped past his defences … 

It could be awfully, insidiously persuasive. Dawnsfirstbloom had read some of their tracts, she’d been made to before she left for Hogwarts in a know-your-enemy sort of way. It was quite persuasive, and if the boys had listened to it … and coupled with her apparent aloofness in not writing to them ...

Oh, it could all be true.

No, no, they couldn’t think it of her. Please, please let it not be so.

It also occurred to her that she was rich now, well rich compared to them, or to almost anyone in the tribe. The money that the Malfoy scholarship gave her was not inconsiderable funds to someone from her poor tribe. Did they think that she was not only stuck up but rich too?

It might not be true, maybe she was making too much of it. Whatever the truth or untruth of the matter, tomorrow would see.

Hopefully the councilors were wrong. Hopefully it was all a misunderstanding.

She tried to fill her head with positive thoughts as she tried to go to sleep that night, but they had all leaked away by one o’clock in the morning. She found herself tossing and turning in her bed, unable to properly fall asleep.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

A tired and emotionally drained Dawnsfirstbloom barely managed to drag herself to the chambers where she was to finally get to see her friends once more. It wasn’t a good omen to her that it was to be held in the great hall, the same place that she’d been shown off on her first day.

Worse still, she’d been greeted by one of the councilors. She recognised his voice as belonging to the same one she’d overheard last night. He had directed her to a fancy and ornate seat that had been placed in the middle of the raised stage. And his words …

He was trying to be nice and positive, but his eyes betrayed his concern. He was saying things like, “Now, now, I know it’s only been half a year, but a lot can happen in half a year. All your friends have jobs now, good jobs that keep them busy, so they might be a bit different from how you remember them. But that’ll be OK, won’t it? Everything changes,” he finished with a rictus grin upon his face.

It wasn’t a good start and things only went downhill from there. Slowsteel, the Witchguard, had been stationed in front of the stage for some reason. He hadn’t been before as he’d been up on the stage with her. But now he was in front of her, barring anyone from coming within five metres of her and the stage.

Dawnsfirstbloom had been led to the chair and seated there for what seemed like an hour - it actually seemed longer, but her watch told her it was close to an hour. All the while the councilor would keep saying, “I’m sure that they’ll be here soon,” or, “I’m sure nothing’s wrong.”

Dawnsfirstbloom was in such a state by the time the doors finally opened, wound up with worry and the hollow words of comfort of the councilor. Around the large doors popped the head of an older female goblin. It took a moment, largely because of the distance involved, for Dawnsfirtbloom to recognise that it was the council woman from last night. By her side the councilor nodded and the other councilor returned the nod, opening up the doors to allow others to pass through. She was leaning back out the doorway, making ‘come here’ motions with her arms; again the distance prevented Dawnsfirstbloom from hearing what she said. First round the door was Littlehook followed closely by Stronghand who never lifted his eyes in her direction. Eventually Bittersweetflames entered, almost dragged into the room by the female councilor who was still stood by the door.

They all moved further into the room, but stopped not very far from the doorway at all. All three of them had their heads down, after furtive glances in her direction. The councilor seemed to be chivying them forward, then walked around the group and stood in front of them with her back slightly to Dawnsfirstbloom. They came to a halt and didn’t raise their heads even once.

To break the silence, Dawnsfirstbloom said, “Um, ‘ello there guys.”

To her horror, they didn’t reply. Instead they all bowed to her; well, the cobs did at least. Her friend, who she’d thought as her best friend till she went to Hogwarts, curtsied. Curtsied!? Had you asked Dawnsfirstbloom beforehand, she wouldn’t even have thought that Bittersweetflames knew how. To make matters even worse, they all as one stopped at the bottom of their bows/curtseys and intoned together, “Good morning, your Witchship.”

“I … um -” Dawnsfirstbloom was lost for words at this display. What could she say in response? Struggling for words she noticed the councilor next to her. He took pity on her plight and answered for her. 

“The Witch thanks you for your abeyance and bids you to rise.”

That wasn’t what she would have wanted him to say at all, but it was out there now. Casting around for something to say she tried something simple and easy, “So, um, guys, what’ve you all been up to?”

The Chief’s son flicked his gaze up to meet hers, but he wouldn’t hold eye contact with her for long. He said, sharply and abruptly, “Work.”

Dawnsfirstbloom could have died of embarrassment, as the question was really loaded. While she had been swanking around at school learning magic, all of them had been put to work. No member of their tribe, as small and impoverished as it was, could escape being put to some useful work somewhere. Even the Chief’s son wasn’t exempt. Dawnsfirstbloom wished the stage would have opened up and swallowed her.

Another awkward silence descended over the gathering.

Dawnsfirstbloom didn’t know what to say. Stronghand would barely meet her eyes. Littlehook was standing in silence, just looking at her. And Bittersweetflames was flicking her gaze backwards and forwards between her own and the female councilor in front of her. It seemed to Dawnsfirstbloom that Bittersweetflames wanted to be anywhere else but here. And that’s when it popped into her head, what she’d overheard the night before. That Bittersweetflames had been bribed to be here with a promise of a trip to the Cornish tunnels - a holiday destination beloved by most of those who lived in the London tunnels.

Suddenly that’s all Dawnsfirstbloom could think of. Was it true? Was her 'friend' being bribed with a trip to Cornwall? Her upset and disappointment almost forced the words out of her mouth. “I suppose you’ll be enjoying yourself in the Cornish tunnels soon, Bittersweetflames?” 

_‘There,’_ Dawnsfirstbloom thought, _‘let her deny that!’_

She didn’t. To Dawnsfirstbloom’s astonishment, instead, after a brief pause, Bittersweetflames curtsied again saying, “Thank you Witch, I hear they’re lovely this time of year.”

Dawnsfirstbloom’s brain almost shut down with the betrayal of it all. It was all true. Even though somewhere in the back of her mind she registered some sense of not quite right: everyone knew that the best time to visit the Cornish tunnels was in the summer - winter was very much the off season. Still it wasn’t enough of a doubt to expunge the certain knowledge that it was all true. 

Everything that she had overheard the councilors talking about last night was borne testimony to by the reactions of her friends today. They hated her, she could see it in their body language, they didn’t want to be here at all, they were so uncomfortable - switching from foot to foot and barely meeting her eyes. Dawnsfirstbloom choked back a sob and looked up imploringly at the councilor who stood by her side.

He moved forward and said, “The Witch is tired now and thanks you for your time. She bids you a farewell and asks for you to depart.”

They might not have been exactly the words Dawnsfirstbloom had wanted said, but she barely heard them as she fled from the room.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

She hadn’t cried, she normally wasn’t the crying sort. She’d run to her room and stomped around in it in a haze of betrayal and sadness and disappointment and anguish. She threw herself into a chair by the table in her apartment and wrote a hasty letter to Rose.

She opened her door furtively once she’d finished writing it and went in search of Slowsteel, her Witchguard. It wasn’t that much of a search, he was stationed in the guardroom of the Smith’s quarters in which her apartment was located. But the most important thing was, she was careful to not be observed by anyone. She passed the letter into his hands with an entreaty that he post it right away and to keep that he’d done so a secret.

“Yes of course, Witch, I shall do so immediately.”

She went back to her room, locked the door and waited for a reply.

* * *

**  
Well, things certainly seem to have not gone so well for Dawnsfirstbloom, at least she has a constant friend in Rose.**

**I have to again thank my wonderful beta, Bittersweetflames, who has again done a wonderful job in correcting my punctuation and tenses. As readers will no-doubt see, there is a reward and a thank you in the chapter above for her. The way she described her namesake was not complimentary, but we shall see what happens with her in the future, shall we …**

**I also have to welcome onboard another beta - how wonderful to have two - Anja, she of the Merlinsbeard. She is fulfilling a different role in her betaing duties and advising me on plot and story and description points. She eased my mind considerably, as to whether I’d conveyed exactly what I wanted to convey, with her wonderfully detailed comments.**

****


	22. Over to Rose's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our little goblin goes to her best friend's house for solace and finds advice.
> 
> The reactions of adults can be obscure to the young; what one might not do alone, one can find that it's easier to in the presence of a friend; the experiences of Hermione are revealed; and, what presents can be found at the chemists.
> 
> _“Do either of you know what was going on?”_
> 
> _Dawnsfirstbloom shrugged her shoulders, she was too close, too emotionally involved to disengage herself and look at it objectively._

**Note: If I was writing about Dawnsfirstbloom going to the house of Roslyn and Harmonium, then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**… hey wait a sec, Dawnsfirstbloom is mine, all mine. BWHA HA HA!**

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

* * *

 

Chapter 22: Over to Rose’s

 

The letter arrived back the very next day and Rose had really come through; it said everything Dawnsfirstbloom wished it to say and more.

When she showed it to the Chief, it had the desired effect, but there was something more; Dawnsfirstbloom could see it in his face. For a moment his politician's mask slipped. He’d been like a jovial uncle towards Dawnsfirstbloom all week - ‘ho-hoing’ when she asked questions and saying variations on, ‘oh, you don’t have to worry yourself about that.’ For a moment he looked joyous - joyously greedy.

“Good, good,” he muttered to himself, “ties with the Weasley clan. Good, good. Pity it’s not with their cadet branch, the Potters.”

“Um, didn’t I say,” Dawnsfirstbloom said, “but I’m also very good friends with Albus Potter, Smith Son and Smith of the Strongarm tribe of the Deep Delvers. ‘e personally welcomed me to ‘ogwarts in the proper goblin way. What’s more, ‘e insisted on us being equals while we was at ‘ogwarts.”

The Chief’s eyes opened in delight even more. “These are good ties for the tribe young Dawnsfirstbloom, good ties indeed. Yes you must go. It says that you are both to attend a function together?”

“um didn’t I say? But, that’s at the Potter’s too - New Years at the Potter residence.”

The look of greed came back to his face; Dawnsfirstbloom wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d started to rub his hands together. “Yes? Good, good. If it is 'osted by Smith Potter, there might be other goblins of importance present, possibly even Smith Truearm himself. You must put yourself forward, introduce yourself to them, make stronger ties; with the Smith especially.”

“This is very good news for the tribe, very good news. Well done, little Dawnsfirstbloom, well done indeed.”

 

\--o-O-o--

 

She learnt more when the letter was shown to the other council members, though what she learned still confused her. Certain members of the council were less guarded with their emotions than was the Chief. It was totally understandable: in their everyday jobs, most of them were miners or shop owners or the like and only sat on the council when necessary. 

One particularly open councilor said, “She going early then?” And the look on his face was … relief? He quickly disguised the emotion when he noticed Dawnsfirstbloom’s regard, but Dawnsfirstbloom had seen it. He needn’t have worried, just because she had seen it, didn’t mean she understood what it meant; she was as confused as ever.

With amazing speed her departure was arranged: her stuff was packed up; her parents summoned for final goodbyes; and she was packed off in a tunnel cart with her bodyguard and sent to the floo point at Gringotts. 

She was met in the bank by an official and escorted through the premises to the fireplace in the staff entrance. The same one she’d watched the other students use when she first arrived back home. It seemed like ages ago, but she suddenly realised it had only been a few days. Her guard went through first to scope out the destination. His head reappeared to give the all clear and when it disappeared from view, Dawnsfirstbloom grabbed a handful of floo powder herself and looking around, back the way she’d come, was truly happy that she was leaving the world of the goblins behind her.

So it was with this thought on her mind that she whirled to a stop in Rose’s grate. Was this it, did she have no home anymore? She wasn’t a human, but she mostly lived in their world now and would for the next six and a half years. She was a goblin, but how could she go back to the Home tunnels if it was going to be like that?

Rose stood waiting for her with a big welcoming grin on her face and the tears that had formed in Dawnsfirstbloom eyes - tears that she’d been holding back for so long - blossomed into full blown crying. She usually wasn’t a crying sort of person, but the sight of her friend, the one person she knew she could always count on, broke her and she wept. Rose held out her arms and enveloped the weeping little goblin in a massive hug. Dawnsfirstbloom sobbed into the bosom of what seemed to her to be her one true friend.

The deep voice of the guard said, “I’ll just be outside if you need me.” And then the two friends were alone.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Rose had eventually taken Dawnsfirstbloom up to her room where the whole sorry tale had come spilling out. Rose comforted her friend as best she knew how; with soothing words and hugs.

When Dawnsfirstbloom finally came to a stop Rose said, “Ok, I think I can see a bit of what was going on. But you know me, I’m not really good at this sort of stuff: you know, politics and stuff. But you know who is?”

“Albus?” Answered Dawnsfirstbloom.

“No,” Rose said with a bit of an exasperated expression, “I mean, yes of course he would be OK at it,” she had to grudgingly admit, “but not him. Someone who not only knows about all this stuff, but has also had lots and lots of experience with it too.” Before Dawnsfirstbloom could even guess, Rose continued on, “My mum, that’s who.”

Despite Dawnsfirstbloom's protests that her mum would be too busy, Rose insisted that they see her. 

Almost as soon as she’d floo’ed home, Hermione was bailed up by Rose, pressing Dawnsfirstbloom’s case. Hermione forestalled Rose’s barrage and led the girls into the Kitchen - having first shed her uncomfortable work-shoes by the grate in the living room. She began to prepare them some tea as her daughter told her a condensed version of the events.

With a cup of warm tea in her hands - a soothing chamomile that staved off the chill of the room and the chill in her heart - Dawnsfirstbloom was considerably calmer. She sipped her tea, centering herself. She had never been in a room quite like this one, or the house for that matter. Hogwarts was much like the home tunnels in a way: communal eating areas; communal dorms; stone passages everywhere. So this house, with a room for everyone to sleep in (a bedroom each!) and a kitchen that was solely for the use of their family and their family alone! It was so alien to her and as she talked she couldn't help but keep glancing around the room.

The hot tea was doing her good and so she began to relate her tale to Rose’s mother. In her, they did find a suitably interested and sympathetic audience, as Rose knew that they would. Hermione asked appropriate questions here and there, to clarify her understanding of the situation and when Dawnsfirstbloom had finished, Hermione just sat there, staring into the middle distance and angrily shaking her head.

“Those bastards, those fu- … oops, sorry girls.”

Rose’s eyes went wide and she shared a grin with her friend, like all kids do when they hear adults swear. To make it more outstanding, Hermione almost never swore. It was a rare occasion when she lost her cool enough to employ ‘colourful language’ as she called it, but when she heard of anything unfair it always got her back up.

“Do either of you know what was going on?”

Dawnsfirstbloom shrugged her shoulders, she was too close, too emotionally involved to disengage herself and look at it objectively. 

Rose was far more detached and impartial, but she suffered from a distinct lack of experience and her abilities didn’t exactly run to the discernment of other people’s emotions and motives. She shrugged too, but said, “I don’t know, but it seems like they were trying to exclude her for some reason?”

“Yes,” her mother was nodding, “that’s exactly it. They were deliberately trying to exclude her and for one of the oldest of reasons: power.”

Then she began to explain it all to them. The other councilors had obviously gotten used to their power, to their positions and their status in society. But mainly the power: the power to do as they wanted, to make the decisions that they wanted and how they were used to doing things.

”It’s been awhile since your tribe has had a Smith, hasn’t it?”

“Oh yes Mrs. Weasleygranger.”

Her mother smiled at the way Dawnsfirstbloom said her name, “It’s so funny but nearly every goblin I meet calls me that; with the two names run together like you just did. I’m just happy that I’m not Hermioneweasleygranger. So how long has it been?”

“About a hundred years or more, I think.”

“Yes, I thought so. So the council is set in it’s ways and doesn’t want to hand over the reins of power to some upstart. If you had been a Smith then there would have been clear guidelines, under what I know of Goblin Law, as to what they should do, but a witch is something new. And I bet they think that they can sideline you or drive you away and not let you get your feet in the door.”

“But what about my friends, Mrs. Weasleygranger, why were they so mean?”

“The first thing that I have to say is, were they actually that mean? Yes I know what happened when you met with them, but you did go into it thinking the worst, didn’t you dear? I’m sorry, don’t be upset, but you did it based upon what you overheard didn’t you? Yes? So if what I’m saying about some of the councilors is true, then what you overheard could have been made up by them, yes?”

Dawnsfirstbloom was looking half astonished and half mutinous, but then her face fell into sadness. “But you didn’t see them Mrs. Weasleygranger, I did. They - you know my friends - they didn’t want to talk with me, they could ‘ardly look me in the eye even.”

“Don’t you see? They had been gotten to.” A quizzical expression from Dawnsfirstbloom forced Hermione to continue. “They have to live there, you don’t. You have been gone for months, then you are back for only a couple of weeks - now it’s even less - and then you’ll be gone again for another five months or so. So while you are gone, it is in the power of the council members to make the lives of your friends very difficult indeed.”

Dawnsfirstbloom mouth fell open in shock.

Hermione was quick to delay Dawnsfirstbloom thinking the very worst. “It’s probably not as bad as all that. I don’t think that they would have been actually threatened, that would be the worst case. They would have been taken aside and had it explained to them that,” Hermione made air quotes and assumed a different voice. “The witch’s duties are very time consuming so she doesn’t ‘ave much time for you and besides she is a different status to you now so you can’t bother ‘er.” She resumed her normal voice, “Sentiment along those lines. And even, I don’t know how bad your Chief is, how determined he is, but he might have even gone so far as to scare them into how they behaved.”

“How would he do that mum? Dawnsfirstbloom has described her friends to me and none of them seem like pushovers.”

“Oh there’s lots of ways. And again Dawnsfirstbloom,” she said placatingly to Dawnsfirstbloom, “there’s no proof that they did and you shouldn’t assume till you find out otherwise, but … hm, let’s see, the way I’d do it is …” she nodded her head, “yes, that’s what I’d do. I’d make their lives better somehow. You would know how that could be achieved, Dawnsfirstbloom, far better than I.”

“Just call me Dawn, Mrs. Weasleygranger, like your daughter does, just Dawn will do for you.”

“Are you sure dear?” She asked and at Dawnsfirstbloom emphatic nod said, “That’s very gracious of you. But as I was asking, you would know how their lives could be made better: better quarters, better or more food, easier work, less of it.”

Dawnsfirstbloom interrupted with a, “That’s it, that last one. Less shifts, all the rest is set. They got no choice where they live or what work they do and everyone eats the same, but less shifts, they could do that easy. But I still don’t see…”

“Hold on Dawnsfirstbloom, I think I know.” At Hermione’s raised eyebrows and a nod, Rose continued, “They make it better for your friends, but only for a bit. So your old friends are thinking, ‘wow, how great is this,’ then bamm! They make it heaps worse for them: even worser - I mean more worse - than before they made it better. If they complain they would be told, ‘that’s just the way it is, you’re growing up, you have to do more work.’ Something like that. So they are working all these extra shifts for I don’t know how long, then the Chief or the councilors come back to them with a, ‘sorry, sorry,” Rose was putting on a deep voice, trying to imitate an elderly, male goblin, “So sorry, we didn’t realise, but you’re friends with the new witch, aren’t you? Oh you shouldn’t have to do so much work, not friends of the new witch.”

Hermione was nodding, “Yes that’s it my clever girl. Then just before the new witch gets back, they would be ‘subtly’ reminded that ‘friends-of-the-new-witch’ wouldn’t want to upset her or tell her what she shouldn’t know or doesn’t want to hear. But really what they are doing is to remind them of their good fortune and that it is dependant upon how they behave.”

Mother and daughter were congratulating themselves so much on their astuteness that neither saw Dawnsfirstbloom's reaction. Dawnsfirstbloom, if she was being objective, could see now exactly where her friend got some of her mannerisms and behaviour from. Rose, she knew, sometimes opened her mouth and said things - correct things of course - but she didn’t pay any heed to the actual feelings of the people around her. Her mother obviously did the exact same thing. And it was true, Hermione who was usually so aware of other peoples emotions would sometimes, when she was caught up in cleverness, become uncharacteristically inattentive and say things that she otherwise wouldn't have.

But at the moment Dawnsfirstbloom wasn’t being that objective. 

Hermione was the first to notice how upset the goblin girl was and rushed to her side. “Oh Dawn, Dawn. It’s not that bad. It’s probably only what I said before: they were probably only talked to, told that they shouldn’t bother you.”

Hermione was patting her shoulder and Rose came over with a weak smile and gave Dawnsfirstbloom's hand a squeeze.

“You said your tribe was a small one, didn’t you Dawn?” Hermione asked and Dawnsfirstbloom nodded. “Those sort of nasty tactics are usually only employed in bigger groups. If your tribe was a nice place to live in and your Chief is usually pleasant and happy, then he probably ruled more by talking and consent than by threats. Yes?”

Dawnsfirstbloom nodded. That sounded like a reasonably accurate picture of her tribe. They held onto the belief that they were still the true clan, even though the off-shoot - which had grown much larger due to rigor and good fortune - was now the one with the official Clan status, mainly due to sheer numbers. Because of that belief, the elders of her tribe allowed the youngsters freedoms that the main Clan youngsters only dreamed of. All in all, her tribe was a fairly relaxed place to live, even though everyone had to work, and work reasonably hard.

There was only one point nagging at Dawnsfirstbloom, when she had settled down. “But one of them, one of my friends is the Chief’s own son.”

“Don’t you see,” Hermione said comfortingly, “he would probably have been the easiest to get to, unless he was smart and resolute.”

Dawnsfirstbloom snorted, and shook her head.

Hermione stood up straight and mimed putting her hand on the shoulder of someone shorter. She put on that deep voice again, the one that had amused Dawnsfirstbloom before. “Now son, it’s time you learnt the sort of decisions that you ‘ave to make as a responsible adult. Sometime old friendships ‘ave to fall by the wayside, I certainly ain't friends with all I went to school with as a young cob.”

This had Dawnsfirstbloom in stitches, “You sound just like him,” she managed to get out.

“Girls,” Hermione addressed them both, “you will find in your life that male managers of a certain age and type all sound the same, no matter where they are from.”

They all laughed together at the pomposity of old men and it did wonders to lighten the atmosphere. Hermione regarded Dawnsfirstbloom shrewdly. “All of this - the way you were treated and pushed aside by your council - I never said you have to accept it.”

Dawnsfirstbloom looked up at her friend’s mother, whom she really had not known all that long, but was now beginning to feel a lot of respect and love for.

“You don’t. There is an old muggle prayer that says, ‘give me the strength to change the things I can and the grace to accept those I cannot.’ This is one of the times that you can change it all. There are many ways that we, that you, I mean, can deal with it. Many ways and that’s depending upon how nasty the council or your Chief has been.”

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Hermione had outlined a plan, saying that she’d work out more details by the time the girls both left for school. One of the things she’d said had suddenly made sense to Dawnsfirstbloom. “You say that you have had no letters from them, from your friends? That clinches it, your mail and theirs must have been intercepted. So don’t bother writing anything to them, it’ll do no good.”

Hermione also said that she might have a surprise weapon on their side that they could use, but she’d have to check as to its availability.

Cheered by all of this, the girls spent the rest of the afternoon happily engaged in making plans and going through the remainder of the big bag of Bertie Bott’s Beans that Rose had bought on the train.

Dawnsfirstbloom went to break a bean in half - she usually did it because of her smaller, stronger fingers - when it reminded Rose of something. “Hang on a sec,” she said diving across her bed to hang over the far edge and rummage around looking for something. She threw some stuff up onto the bed including a wrapped Christmas present and a half wrapped book. “Here you go,” said the back end of Rose. She turned over on the bed, hooked her ankles over the side of the bed and with an impressive degree of abdominal strength sat straight up. She couldn’t use her hands to help her sit up, as she was clutching a small present in both of them.

“Here, catch,” and she chucked the present to Dawnsfirstbloom.

Dawnsfirstbloom caught the easy lob and looked quizzically at Rose.

“Yeah, I know it’s a day and a half to Chrissy, but it’s a sort of sharing present for both of us. I saw it in the chemist’s when mum had to go down to the shops. It wasn’t quite right so I had to carve out a bit of it with Hugo’s Dremel.”

Dawnsfirstbloom had been unwrapping the present as Rose had talked. She was rewarded with a small, plain, brown, cardboard box. She turned it over just as Rose had finished talking and a plain white sticker on the side had ‘pill cutter’ typed upon it. She looked up at Rose, still with the same puzzled expression upon her face.

Rose was just grinning, “go on, open it up.”

Dawnsfirstbloom pulled the tabs of the lid out and folded back the lid and got out of the box … a pill cutter. For a moment she had thought that Rose had just used an available box to wrap the present, but obviously not.

Rose said again, “go on, go on, open it up.”

Dawnsfirstbloom opened up the lid of the device.

“Be careful,” Rose warned, “there’s a sharp blade in the lid.”

Dawnsfirstbloom was careful, the blade went straight across the lid of the device, perpendicular to the axis that the lid opened. When it was to be closed again, the leverage obtained through the hinge would exert enough force to cut a pill in half. The pill to be cut rested in a cut away section in the base, and that’s when Dawnsfirstbloom saw it. She suddenly got what it was about and, with a big grin on her face and her mouth hanging open, she looked up from the cutter to see Rose grinning and nodding. Saying, “Yeah, yeah?”

Where the pill should have gone, where a round space should have been, Rose had carved out a space that would perfectly fit one Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Bean.

* * *

**  
Hi there, here is the latest instalment. From this you can see that there is some plot developing that concerns Dawnsfirstbloom, but I’m afraid that it will all come to a head in about ten chapters from now when the two girls go to Dawn’s home at the end of the year - in chapters that I’m in the midst of writing now.**

**A big thank you again to my two betas, Anja aka merlinsbeard and Carla aka Bittersweetflames- without whom this story would be all the poorer.  
**


	23. Christmas at the Burrow ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the girls go over to the Burrow for Christmas.
> 
> The nature of Ron's parenting; What Hermione does at Christmas time; there's something Rose sees every Christmas, and it's not Santa; What Uncle Neville does at Christmastime; Quidditch, then lunch, then Prezzies.
> 
> _Christmas at the Burrow was the usual chaotic affair._

**Note: If I was writing about Dawnsfirstbloom and Roslyn going to the Barrow, then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**… hey wait a sec, Dawnsfirstbloom is mine, all mine. BWHA HA HA!**

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.**

**The Chapter image was painted by myself.  
**

* * *

Chapter23: Christmas at the Burrow ...

 

Christmas at the Burrow was always awesome, and it was going to be even more so because, for the first time, Rose was going to bring along a friend.

Their branch of the Weasley family always arrived early because it was Rose’s mum who cast the extension charm on the Burrow’s lounge room. Other members of the family could of course do it, but from her early forays into dimensional magic - her string bags - Hermione had proven particularly adept at that specialised branch of magic.

They were all lined up at their fireplace, ready to go to the Burrow. Her mum went first and her dad stood by the fireplace with the pot of floo powder holding it out for everyone to take a pinch. Once her mum had whirled away in the green tinted flames, her dad turned to Rose.

“You got your broom, Rosie? All set for the big, family game?”

Her face lit up, “You betcha’ dad”

He turned to Hugo and bent over to retrieve something from beside him on the floor, “You forgot your broom son. Luckily I had my eye on the quaffle or you’d have missed out on the big game.” He threw the broom to Hugo, who fumbled the easy catch; only just managing to hold on to it with both arms. Rose wasn’t surprised at the fumble, Hugo wasn’t joking when he said the other day that he hated quidditch because he was bad at it.

But Rose was surprised at her dad. After the declaration the other day when Hugo had summoned up his courage and told his father exactly how he felt about playing quidditch, Rose was stunned. She looked at Hugo to see the same stunned expression on his face. Hugo hadn’t tempered his words, he’d told his dad straight up that he didn’t like to play. Their dad sometimes didn’t hear the things that he didn’t want to hear. So was it one of those occasions? Had he chosen to ignore what Hugo had said? Rose and Hugo were looking at each other, wide-eyed, wondering what they should do or say next when their dad started to talk again.

“You said you didn’t like playing Quidditch, fine, but all those games we’ve watched and gone to; don’t tell me all of that was a lie?”

He was almost pleading with his son and the truth wasn’t that bad so Hugo said, “No dad, no. Of course not. I loved all of that, Quidditch is great. It’s just playing it: I’m no good and I hate it.”

“Ok,” said their dad, “but you still like flying, don’t you?”

“Well,” said Hugo shrugging, “who wouldn’t?”

“Then you’re playing in the Annual Family Game - it’s tradition.”

“But…” Hugo began to say, but his father talked over him.

“But nothing, you are going to join the family game and that’s final. And I know exactly what you’re going to do, because there’s always one position that no one wants to fill.”

Rose and Hugo looked away from their father and at each other again: what could he mean? Between all the members of their extended family they had enough keepers and seekers and chasers and beaters to field three teams, almost four. 

Rose was looking right at Hugo, so she saw his expression when she heard her father say, “No one ever wants to be the ref.”

A look of dawning comprehension started to bloom on Hugo’s face and the smile of understanding and gratitude that followed it made Rose love her father even more.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Rose arrived at the Burrow and dumped the handful of presents that she’d been carrying under the tree and rushed to put her broom out on the porch. She hurried to locate her mum, dragging the just arrived Dawnsfirstbloom along with her. She finally found her mum, talking to her gran in the kitchen. “You haven’t started yet, on the lounge room, have you mum?”

Her mum gave her a patient look, “Of course I haven’t. I know how much you like seeing it happen.” But then she raised her eyebrows at Rose and gave her a pointed look, nodding in the direction of Dawnsfirstbloom and then back at Rose’s gran behind her.

Rose got the message and coloured slightly. “Sorry mum,” she muttered. Speaking up she addressed her grandmother. “Hey Nanna, I’d like you to meet my best friend from school. Nanna, this is Dawnsfirstbloom.” Putting her arm around the goblin girl as she talked and propelling her friend forward.

Dawnsfirstbloom walked into the kitchen proper, extending her hand. Rose’s gran extended her own and with a large, welcoming smile took hold of Dawnsfirstbloom's tiny hand.

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you dear. Rose has been here quite a few days of the holidays and all I’ve heard has been Dawn this and Dawn that. Oh, I’m sorry dear, I meant Dawnsfirstbloom.”

“No, please Mrs. Weasley, please just call me Dawn, all my close wizard friends do.”

“Thank you, that’s very gracious of you. You must call me Nanna - if you call me Mrs. Weasley today, then you’ll have five people all saying, ‘Yes’.”

The introductions were obviously over so Hermione said, “Ok then, come on you two, let's go and get this over with. I assume that you want to see this too,” she said to Dawnsfirstbloom, “that’s why Rose is dragging you with her?”

Dawnsfirstbloom nodded vigorously in agreement.

Both girls followed Hermione out of the kitchen and into the lounge room.

“You girls stand out of the way while I do the spell.”

“Yes mum, I know where I have to stand. Over here Dawn, near the Chrissy tree. This section of the room stays as it is and it’s the rest that expands out from here.” She grabbed her friend’s hand and waited for the magic to start.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Hermione went to the centre of the room and steadied herself, pulling out her wand almost on automatic. Focus was all important in a spell like this - especially when you were standing in the middle of it. It was different if the expansion spell was built into the very fabric of the architecture like in a tent or the Leaky Cauldron, say. There was an expansion spell, several actually, that were woven into that building, so that, when the crowd got too large the barman - these days barwoman, her old school friend Hannah Longbottom - could wave a wand and tap a certain section of the bar and the room would expand so seamlessly, most patrons wouldn’t realise that it was happening.

Not so in the main living room of the Burrow. It had so many old architectural spells on it in the first place - most of them being tasked with keeping the whole edifice upright, despite the visual evidence to the contrary. If she wasn’t careful the spell she was doing would interact with the ones already present and cause those vital ones to go awry. The main problem though, had to do with the fact that Hermione was going to do the spell from within the room she was changing. It was better to do so - you could direct the manner of the way the room expanded with far more control - but there was one big catch: the person performing the spell had to be careful about playing around with the dimensions of a room that they were in, lest it go the wrong way and the room ended up becoming smaller than they were.

So Hermione had to focus and concentrate; not that she was particularly flappable. One year, James had thought it would be funny to jump into the room and surprise his aunt. Without breaking stride, she had flicked her wand out sideways and James had sailed out of the room, out through the front door and had landed on his bottom on the garden path.

Hermione had always been fascinated by these dimensional spells, ever since school and the ‘rudimentary’ ones she had cast upon the bag that they’d used when they were on the run from Voldemort. Living in the stretched out dimensions that were to be found within the dimensionally transcendental tent, even further piqued her interest. The fact that the tent, even with it’s extra dimensions could be folded up and put into the extra dimension of her beaded bag was nothing short of astounding to her.

She hadn’t had much chance to experiment or investigate these particular charms; not with going into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures straight after school and then into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement straight after that. No time at all, until she had been forced by the Ministry to leave work because she was pregnant with Rose. A combination of extreme boredom and being banned from doing any actual Ministry work had been all she needed to allow her the opportunity to investigate this branch of magic that had always intrigued her.

A loving husband had provided her enough books on the subject. She claimed that they were only for a bit of light reading. It had disarmed him completely, as she knew it would, chuckling to himself about what his wife considered ‘light reading’. After she’d devoured the texts she’d done experiment after experiment. Making bags in bags, bags which opened to become another bag, and so forth. She then moved on to boxes and made her own version of the one she’d heard that Barty Crouch Jr had imprisoned Mad-eye Moody in back in their fourth year at Hogwarts.

Finally she had moved on to tents and rooms. There was a particular hypothesis that she wanted to test out and after she had made a tent she tested it. The tent itself was only about three metres long, but internally it was a good ten metres at least. While she was within the tent, she made a new doorway in the far end of the expanded dimensions. With a thirst for knowledge and a growing sense of excitement she opened the new door.

To her great disappointment she didn’t emerge in a parallel reality.

Instead, she found herself merely at the back of the tent. 

She had to throw off her despondency at not having greater vistas to explore and discovering an amazing breakthrough in how wizards would think of their world. At least there were some interesting facts to be learnt. If she shut the door once she was outside and held onto the knob, when the door shut she would be directly behind the tent. But if she pushed the door shut, losing contact with it, then she found herself metres from the end of the tent - the same distance that the internal expanded dimensions would have been.

Interesting enough, but she was still disappointed not to meet an alternate version of herself. She always wondered that if things had gone differently, would she have ended up with Ron, or could it possibly have been with somebody else …

Shaking off the memories with a soft grin, seeing the faces of the two girls so intently focused upon her own, Hermione centred herself and began her spell.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Rose always loved watching her mother perform complex magic, but extension charms were her favourite. She saw her mum raise her wand and begin the spell; non-verbally of course, like most of her spellwork was.

Rose looked quickly to the side walls, just beyond where they were standing - just outside the bounds of the Christmas tree, the piles of presents, and grandpa’s comfy chair. As per usual when the spell started, she could see the eerie light that came out of the place where the walls were expanding from. It was very dim and hard to see in the daylight, but nevertheless, Rose could see it - a sort of weird, dark indigo light, almost black, with an actinic glow. 

As a much younger girl she had gone over to the ‘pretty lights’ and touched the wall to see what it felt like. Her fingers had slipped through the surface of the wall into … somewhere else. The immediate ‘gap’ where she put her fingers through felt … strange. Felt like nothing she’d ever felt before. It was like slowly putting one’s hand into still water, feeling the breaking of the surface tension. Her fingers on the other side didn’t feel wet or anything, just normal, like air, but where her palm crossed the boundary of ‘here’ and ‘there’ she could still feel that gentle pressure. There was no sign of the expansion line, except for a faint trace of the indigo light, once the spell was completed. But if Rose closed her eyes she could feel a sort of lip of that gentle pressure, and she felt that the ‘other place’ lay just behind the surface of the expanded wall.

The shock of having her fingers slip through the crack in the world had scared her into not daring to touch it again. 

… until the next time. A year later she had taken a stick from a branch of the Christmas Tree and stuck it through the gap. Nothing had happened to it and when her mum had finished the spell, it still stayed there; stuck halfway into the wall. The next day when the spell had worn off and the room had gently returned to the same size, the stick had fallen, unharmed to the ground. She kept the stick and tried it out at New Year’s - when her mum did a similar expansion job on the Potter’s house. This time, when the spell had finished, there was a sharp snapping sound and the stick fell away from the wall cleanly cut in two.

Rose had not fooled around with the edges of expansion charms since.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

As children we all make assumptions based upon what we can see, on observable facts. Mostly they turn out to be true: ‘steam comes off the bath water that is hot, so steam coming off a cup of tea means it’s hot too.’ When the results or object of our assumptions is directly testable, we find out soon enough if they are true or not. When the assumption is a bit more esoteric, they can then persist for a long time - untill something or somebody disabuses us of our notions. For instance an avid young reader may come across the word ‘grotesque’ long before they hear it pronounced; the laughter of adults when they pronounce it grot-es-kew will tell them they've got it wrong. All throughout our late childhood and early teens, these sort of notions fall away as the harsh light of reality reveals them to be false.

Rose had made one such assumption, something that she’d never mentioned to anyone because she assumed that everyone could see it as clearly as she could. She’d seen her mum cast this charm throughout her childhood and assumed that everyone could see the weird, almost-light that came from the edges of extension charms: from the ones in extended rooms to the lips of the bags that her mum enchanted. She thought that everyone could, what she didn’t know was that it was completely the opposite: most people would not see anything at all.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Christmas at the Burrow was the usual chaotic affair. 

With all of her children grown up and married - with the exception of Charlie - Nana Molly had done a sensible thing. She had realised that their loyalties would be divided as to where they should spend Christmas: with her or their In-Laws. So she had claimed lunch. No matter where any of her children were to stay for Christmas, lunchtime at the Burrow was her’s. It was not too difficult a chore for the extended family, given the dual advantages that wizardkind had with Apparition and the Floo Network.

Often enough, if one of her boys had spent the Christmas eve with their In-Laws, and stayed with them for Christmas morning too, then come lunch, not only would they appear at the Burrow, but they would bring the In-Laws with them as well. For Nanna Molly, there was never too many at her home at Christmastime. The thing was, no matter how many people were present, even in a crowd of hundreds, to her, one person would always be missing.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

From sometime after nine, people started arriving in dribs and drabs. The real influx started about ten or so and at least half did so with brooms in their hands. The broom wielders would either march straight out of the fireplace and continue out through the back door or apparate into the laneway next to the house and go straight into the game of quidditch. The same game that had been in progress since there were enough people to pass a quaffle.

Sometimes the Christmas games were not so free-for-all, sometimes they made up teams and had a sort of mini-competition. But this year it was chaotic and no less enjoyable for being so. At the game’s height there were: almost as many keepers as there were hoops; enough chasers for three teams; more than three beaters per bludger; and so many seekers that the snitch was caught eight times. 

Lunch was finally called and everyone eventually came down to earth. There were always a few hold-outs, it was unsurprising that it wasn’t just the kids that didn’t want to stop playing. A threat from Nanna that the last to the ground was going to be stuck with the washing up resulted in a flurry of the players returning to the ground. The argument between Fred, Charlie and James about who was the last to the ground was cut short when Nanna Weasley told them that they were all stuck with it.

The food was laid out on long trestle tables set up in the back yard and the area was kept warm with heating charms. There was no snow this year so no cover was needed and the cocoon of heat from the charms extended far enough around the table that one could move around the company easily enough. Though, anyone who forgot where the corridor of warm was - the one that extended from the house to the table - quickly dashed through the chilly air until they found it again.

The hungry quidditch players had shucked the heavy jackets that they’d needed flying through the chill of the air. The slight smell of the sweaty bodies wasn’t much noticed as nearly all of them had been playing, but it was soon overwhelmed by the delicious smells from the roasts: duck, beef, chicken and goose. Such an appetite had been generated from the morning's activities that it wasn’t long before they all made serious inroads into the delectable feast that lay before them.

Rose was looking around the table and, in between bites of a chicken leg, she was pointing out all her cousins and uncles and aunts to Dawnsfirstbloom. When she got round the table she did a quick recount and realised that there was one missing. She raised her voice, so that she could be heard across the table and said, “Hey Fred, where’s Roxy?”

He cupped his ear to hear her over the din and shouted back, “She’s over at Uncle Neville’s with Alice helping them out. She’ll be here after lunch for the prezzies.”

“Oh, of course, for the Orphan’s Christmas. Thanks Fred.” Next to her Dawnsfirstbloom was looking confused so Rose explained what Uncle Neville did for Christmas.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Neville had never really had a proper Christmas with his parents, ever. He’d always visited them at Christmas of course, but for him it had been a rather reserved affair with his grandmother and his great uncles. Until, that was, the Christmas after the war had ended.

Whilst he was visiting his parents at St Mungo's that day, he'd stumbled across a few schoolmates who were visiting the injured from the battle of Hogwarts who were still recuperating. Soon, two became a few became many: all wanting to see him; to say hello; to shake his hand and reminisce; to pat him on the back and thank him.

The thing was, as much as Harry was respected and admired for what he had done, there was a section of the population who thought the same of Neville. Most were of course those kids who were at school with him in that final year of the war. The Slytherins had strutted through the halls like kings under the reign of the Carrows, but Neville had prowled the halls like a tiger; always causing the Carrows trouble and getting himself into mischief. He was constantly in detention, being tortured by the Carrows or the other students - usually Slytherins but not all, there were some from the other houses too - those who they'd co-opted into their torture games. If there was ever anyone else in detention with him, Neville was always the first to cast aside his own hurt and anguish to comfort and console the younger students.

Because of this and his leadership in those dire times, he was respected by those kids, and the teachers too, who were at Hogwarts at that time just as much as Harry was. Even more so: didn't Neville defy Voldemort to his face and pull Gryffindor’s own sword out of the Sorting Hat and cut off the head of Voldemort's giant snake?

When the crowd that had gathered around him had grown too large for the hallway of St Mungo's, they had all been directed to the hospital canteen by the staff. They had eaten the Christmas refreshments the establishment had to offer and despite the depressing circumstances of them having to be there in the first place, they all had a surprisingly good time.

Some Muggle-born kid had said to Neville, or he’d overheard it said, that it was just like an Orphan’s Christmas. Neville immediately asked what that was and had been told it was a Muggle thing. Muggles didn't have apparition or the floo network, so if they were separated from their families at Christmas, due to distance or work or other such commitments, they couldn't easily pop home for Christmas. So they would go down to a local pub or club with a mate or two in similar circumstances and meet up with others and have an ‘Orphan’s Christmas.’ Not many of them were actual orphans as such, but they would at least have a good social and happy christmas even though they weren't with their real families.

It had lit a fire within Neville so when the season came round to the next year, he contacted people who had no one or those who had lost significant members of their families and had an Orphan’s Christmas. He liked it so much - the first time that he had been truly joyful at Christmas - that he had started holding it every year. Normally at either the Three Broomsticks or the Leaky Cauldron, but for the last few years it was usually in the latter, now that his wife ran and owned the Leaky Cauldron.

Alice, their lone child, was the same age as Roxanne and because they were both Diagon Alley kids, were the best of friends. Alice had always ‘helped out’ at Christmas, but now that she was old enough to really help out she must have asked Roxy to give her a hand. Or it could be that Roxy had volunteered to help, it was possible either way. That's the way it was with best friends.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

The meal was eventually over and done and the In-Law ring-ins had gone. This year it had only been Audrey’s parents who’d come to lunch at The Burrow. Roxanne had stepped out of the fireplace almost straight after Audrey's parents had stepped in.

It was now time for presents and the whole family gathered in the magically extended living room. They watched as everyone opened their presents with smiles, and thanks, and ‘oh how I've always wanted one of these.’ There were only a few occasions of forced smiles and insincere thanks as presents were received that the recipients clearly did not want.

Hugo had to laugh when he opened his present from his dad and found a silver, international-standard, quidditch referee’s whistle. He had to smile again when he opened his mum's present. It was a book - that wasn't a surprise, Rose’s Mum nearly always gave everyone she gifted a book. The book was ‘The International Rules of Quidditch with Practical Advice for Referees.’

The way the extended family organised presents, was that everyone got presents from their direct family members (and often their closest cousins too), but they only got one present each from everyone else - the whole rest of the family - combined. It would be too expensive otherwise. And it was Grandpa Weasley who sorted it all out.

He had retired from the Ministry, so he had plenty of time on his hands. Even though, straight after he retired, he went back to school - Muggle school. Harry had given him some good advice. Even though Arthur had been fascinated with all aspects of Muggle Technology, Harry had told him to pick one and only one thing to study. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to ever fully learn what he wanted to. Arthur had picked motorcycle mechanics, and by the end he was quite competent at it. He’d stripped down Sirrus’s old bike and rebuilt it, he’d even made one of his own. He spent a lot of his time now fixing up motorbikes for wizards, with shield charms and anti-collision charms and all the magical mod-con’s. He even become so proficient with motors, he was called in to be one of the team that refurbished the Knight bus.

All the while he was tinkering in his workshop, the members of the family would come in with suggestions for gifts for other family members. He would note it all down and coordinate the buying of all the presents, so that at Christmas, everyone would get something special from the entire family.

So it was that when it came the time for Hugo to receive his family gift he was initially dreading to open the package in his hands because it felt like clothes. You never got clothes for your family gift, it simply wasn't done. But his face lit up when he opened it. He wasn’t wrong, it was clothes, but it was a full Quidditch referee’s strip. He held it up to himself and turned around to show it off to all the laughing family. 

Rose looked over in wonder at her father. All of this had to have come from him, but he’d only had days since he learnt that Hugo didn’t like to play. How had he organised it all in time?

Dawnsfirstbloom had sat there through it all, watching the family open their presents. If she was sad about her old friends, she didn't let it show. Not that she had that much time for introspection because to her surprise she received presents herself. She hadn't been expecting any at all.

The most touching gift had come from her own mum and dad, especially after how little she’d seen of them. Her mum was one of the best leather workers for their tribe and she’d made her daughter a sort of holster for her wand. It could be worn on a belt, but it had extra straps to enable it to be worn under an arm or strapped to an ankle.

The most surprising gift was a slice: a piece of goblin, cakey, confectionery goodness that was traditionally made around Christmas time. There was a card with it that only had a ‘Merry Christmas’ on it - signed by no one - but it could only be from her friend Bittersweetflames. Dawnsfirstbloom knew she worked in the kitchens and was a bloody good cook too. It only deepened the mystery of exactly what was going on with her old friends.

She had to share a smile with Rose when she held up a book, from Rose’s Mum, of course. But her best present was from Rose.

Rose shoved it excitedly into her hands with a, “go on, open it,” and Rose bounced in her seat as Dawnsfirstbloom tore off the wrapping paper. Dawnsfirstbloom couldn't believe it. What she held was obviously handmade, and and obviously handmade by Rose. When did she have the time to do it? Dawnsfirstbloom's wondered, as she softly stroked it.

“Do you like it? Is it OK?” Rose asked because Dawnsfirstbloom hadn't said anything. 

Dawnsfirstbloom looked up from the contemplation of the present and clutched it to herself. “It's the best,” and she laughed as Rose enveloped her in a massive hug.

Rose explained that she not only made it, but she had to design the pattern herself. “I looked but there were no patterns available. I guess no one has ever wanted one before. You are probably the first to ever have a crocheted soft toy version of a manticore.”

 

\--o-O-o--

 

The last presents of the day were from Nanna Molly. She didn't want to be involved with the ones her husband organised as she liked the surprise of seeing what everyone got on the day too much to be involved. Her gifts were still the ubiquitous Weasley jumpers: everyone got one and everyone open them all together right at the end. Dawnsfirstbloom was surprised that she got one too.

“What do you think I've been doing?” Rose said, “while you were lounging around, relaxing in council meetings,” Dawnsfirstbloom gave her a soft whack on the arm for her cheekiness, “I was working my fingers to the bone round here, helping Nana to make it for you. I couldn't use magic now that I'm out of school, you _so_ get used to doing things the easy way don’t you?” Rose said rhetorically. “Nana Molly finished it off, but I did the whole back panel of the jumper myself.”

They both slipped their jumpers on and were matching in red with golden G’s on the front. Albus called to them and held his jumper out in front of him so they could get a good look. His jumper was divided into 4 quadrants of colours that matched the Hogwarts shield - red, green, blue and yellow


	24. ... New Years at the Potters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which all of our four main protagonists meet for New Year's Eve at the house of Albus.
> 
> Construction of aperitifs as an aid to felicity; Olivia, a variation upon a theme; a reunion, is an acquaintance of old friends for one, but overwhelming for the other; Dawnsfirstbloom is given a lesson or two.
> 
>  
> 
> _“Speaking of Clan Sisters. It is a pleasure to finally meet you properly young Dawnsfirstbloom.” And he stepped forward with an upraised hand for her to shake._

**  
Note: If I was writing about Dawnsfirstbloom and Roslyn going to the house of Albert to meet Slimshanks and Lightsthefire, then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**… hey wait a sec, Dawnsfirstbloom, Slimshanks and Lightsthefire are mine, all mine. BWHA HA HA!**

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.**

* * *

Chapter 24: … New Year’s at the Potters.

 

The weeks until New Years passed by fairly uneventfully. They went into town a few times and walked around a bit, but with Rose as her best friend, Dawnsfirstbloom was already resigned to the fact that a lot of her down time would involve reading. Worse than that, Rose contacted Albus and got him to come over. For a full day she forced them to complete all the homework that they had been assigned for the holidays (and had ignored till now).

New Year’s Eve arrived soon enough and again the girls accompanied Rose’s mum over to the Potter's Place early so that she could cast the expansion charm on the Potters residence. Not that it needed much expansion, in Dawnsfirstbloom’s opinion, the place was already pretty huge.

They watched Rose’s mum perform the spell, Dawnsfirstbloom was impressed once again, but the way Rose behaved caught Dawnsfirstbloom’s attention. Rose absolutely loved it, Dawnsfirstbloom could tell, almost obsessed about it in a way that Rose was about few things. Her eyes lit up and she could hardly tear her gaze away from the walls as they expanded out of nothing.

Once the spellwork was done, they both went to help out in the kitchen. Mrs. Potter set them up on a table making aperitifs and canapes. Albus joined them, and much to Rose’s displeasure, so did Scorpius too.

“What's he doing here?” She demanded of Albus, missing entirely the look of hurt that flickered across Scorpius’s face.

Albus looked at his cousin questioningly and said, “I could say the same thing about her.” Pointing out Dawnsfirstbloom. 

“That's different, she's an invited honoured guest.”

“I know she is,” responded Albus, “Hi, by the way, Sprout.” Dawnsfirstbloom waved back, not wanting to talk in the face of Rose’s ire. “And so is he. Scorpius has been invited and is an honoured guest too.”

Rose was looking mutinous, but Albus said, “Rose,” sternly and fixed her with a pointed stare.

She sighed out a put-upon sigh, “Fine. Hi Malfoy, Happy New Year.”

“That is very generous of you Miss Weasley. I'm honoured to be invited and can wholeheartedly return the salutations of the season.”

It was Scorpius’s turn to be given a look by Albus, a look similar to the one that he’d given Rose. It indicated that he thought that Scorpius wasn’t helping things. But Dawnsfirstbloom knew what Scorpius’s behaviour was, after witnessing so much of it: when Rose was so rude to him, he wouldn’t be rude back. No, his manners wouldn’t allow for him to treat a girl like that, instead he got his own digs in by being super-extremely polite; which he knew got under her skin.

The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly enough; as usual, once Rose got over her initial unpleasantness, she didn’t mind his company … much.

They all sat around the table talking about their holidays. Dawnsfirstbloom’s reception at the hands of her fellow tribe members got a suitably sympathetic reaction from Albus and Scorpius. Their positiveness was infectious and it wasn’t long before she was similarly buoyant about its eventual outcome.Plate after plate of ingredients were brought before them and they had to cut them up or assemble them or stir them up and put them onto biscuits or whatever the particular treat required. Once a plate of aperitifs were completed, some adult would collect them and take them back in the kitchen and bring out more to make. The whole afternoon passed quite cordially on the whole.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Rose had been looking forward to the evening so much. She’d really enjoyed the last party that she’d attended, the one at Halloween. She hadn’t expected to, but she’d ended up dancing the night away. Normally she wasn’t much of a one for parties, but after the unexpected success of Halloween, it had turned her round and all that she could think of for the last few days had been the upcoming party on New Year’s Eve.

Perhaps all that expectation was the reason she wasn’t particularly enjoying herself.

Of course, some interesting and enjoyable things had happened. Like when she met Olivia’s mum.

Rose had caught a glimpse of Olivia through the party crowd and had been beckoned over. Olivia waited to introduce Rose, as her mum was talking to some imposing figure of a man that Rose vaguely recognised from somewhere. 

He took his leave by saying, “I’ll see you later, you are coming to our next game; no question. I can already see you’re planning not to, but I'm going to send you some tickets Olive, so you’ll have to come.”

As he walked away the look on Rose’s face must have been priceless because Olivia was flat out laughing at her. “Didn’t you know Rose? My Dad’s Oliver, me Mum’s Olive and I’m Olivia.” 

Olivia’s mum was also chuckling slightly, she must have seen reactions similar to Rose’s so many times before. “Yes, a lot of people find it amusing when they find out. My friends at work - I work in the Department of Magical Games and sports - well my so-called friends thought it funny when they set me up on a blind date with Oliver; who was a friend of a friend of theirs. But we hit it off, it showed them, and we started going out and you know.” Mrs. Wood was holding a champagne glass in her left hand. She twisted that hand around and swivelled the ring on her finger with her right hand, to indicate to Rose that ‘you know’ meant marriage and all the rest. 

“Then when we had a girl,” Mrs. Wood continued, “my husband, the superstitious sportsman that he is, didn’t want to break the trend and so there was nothing else we could call her but Olivia.”

Rose had to smile in the face of that. Being the Captain of the team, she’d seen Olivia quite a bit and so now knew where she got all her little superstitious habits, like always being the last one out of the change rooms before a game. And, from having showers after the games with her, Rose knew that, unless Olivia only had one type of underwear, she always wore exactly the same pair of panties whenever she played a game of Quidditch.

She missed what Mrs. Wood had just said, thinking about those granny panties that Olivia wore to each game, so she had to say, “Sorry Mrs. Wood, my mind was elsewhere, what did you say?”

“That’s alright. I said: so you’re Olivia’s reserve Seeker and a reserve Chaser too I hear.”

“Yes mam, and I caught the snitch in my first game too. Not that it was in the proper House Cup competition though.”

“I’ve been hearing a lot about this new league with the three Seekers. It’s all Olivia and her father have talked of since she got back from Hogwarts.”

“What have I been talking about?” A man’s voice asked. Rose turned to see who it was and it could only have been Olivia’s dad. Rose had met him before, at one of these New Years parties sometime in the past, but she hadn’t really remembered him. That didn’t matter now, now that she knew his daughter, because Olivia was a carbon copy of her dad - just a younger, female version.

“The game dad,” Olivia supplied, “the Albus league and the way it changes the game.”

“Oh yeah.” He reached over a hand for Rose to take. She shook it and he said, “You must be Rose, pleased to meet you.” He looked puzzled for a moment, “though have we met before? All you young Weasleys blend in together so that I can’t pick you apart.” He said it in a rough, good natured sort of way that took any sting out of his words. “And you're all great at quidditch, so no difference there either.”

“We’ve met before, Mr. Wood.” Rose answered his compliment with a smile, releasing his hand.

“And you caught the snitch in your first game, well done. Over your cousin, too, and I hear he’s something else. His dad was good, I had him on my team from his first year, he was that good. But I hear from Olivia that he’s better than his old man, what do you think? Ever seen them both play? You must have, haven’t you, so how good is Albus vs his old man?”

Mr. Wood’s questions had piled on top of each other, not allowing anyone a chance to answer them, so when he came to a stop it was abrupt and Rose took a second to respond. “Albus is as good as his dad. I’ve seen them play together heaps of times around the holidays, so I know they're about the same, except that Albus has something his father has never had.” Mr. Wood was looking at her eagerly and nodding his head slightly prompting her to go on. With a grin Rose said, “better eyesight.”

They kept talking about quidditch for a while, untill Mr. and Mrs. Wood were called away by other adults. Olivia left her soon after, when she caught the eye of some of the older kids. One of them, an older boy that Rose vaguely recognised as being a friend of either Victoire’s or Teddy’s, opened the top of his coat slightly to reveal the neck of a bottle of something ... alcoholic presumably, Rose guessed. Olivia bid her a hasty farewell and bolted after them. 

That was about the highlight of the evening as far as Rose was concerned, but the same couldn’t be said for Dawnsfirstbloom.

She had been trepidatious going into the night, surrounded as she would be by adult, human wizards. It was a bit intimidating. So she stuck with Rose, who pulled her through it all.

That was until Rose’s mum came over. “Rose, there’s someone here who wants to see you.”

Rose was puzzled as there wasn’t anyone else with her mum, until, that was, she stepped aside to reveal …

“Aunty Lightsthefire!” Rose almost shrieked and flew into a hug with the goblin witch.

“Ugh, Rose,” Lightsthefire said, pulling out of the hug, “when did you get so tall?”

Rose was grinning as she shrugged self deprecatingly, she didn’t think that she was that tall. ‘Been anywhere interesting, Auntie?”

“I’ve been halfway up the east coast of Africa, but I got a portkey back for Christmas ‘cause I got a letter from your mum saying that there was someone I should meet.”

Rose’s eyes went wide. “Of course, forgive me, where are my manners? Auntie, I’d like you to meet my friend …” Rose was turning to Dawnsfirstbloom but she stopped when she saw what her friend was doing.

Dawnsfirstbloom was in a low curtsey. Without looking up from the floor she said, “Exalted First Witch, I am not worthy…”

But she was cut off by Lightsthefire dashing across to her and lifting her up. “Stop it, stop it my Clan Sister.” She tilted up Dawnsfirstbloom’s chin so that she would look her in the eye. “Stop this foolishness. We are all wizards and witches here and equal in the eyes of this magical society.”

“And we are Clan Sisters you and I.” She reached up and brushed a lock of hair that had strayed, back over one of Dawnsfirstbloom’s ears. “Clan sisters. We might not be from the same tribe, but we are both Deep Delvers, are we not? So no more of this scraping and bowing, OK?”

Dawnsfirstbloom gave her a tentative nod.

“Ah,” she pulled Dawnsfirstbloom back into a hug again, “it’s going to be so good having another girl around, don’t you know. We’ve had two other boys from our Clan, but both from cadet tribes and not the main Clan. You’ve got no idea how much that pisses off Slimshanks.”

“And what,” said a new voice, causing Lightsthefire to almost guiltily breakaway from Dawnsfirstbloom, “would upset me so much that it would ‘piss me off’ as you so eloquently put it?”

“Oh Slimshanks, didn’t see you there,” Lightsthefire said, still feeling guilty, but then she smiled a slightly cheeky grin, “just saying how there have been no witches nor wizards from the main Clan yet.”

The look of sardonic inquisitiveness that had been on the older goblin’s face disappeared, to be replaced by one of bitter disappointment. He sighed, “When is it going to happen, when? Not that I don’t value or count you witches from our cadet tribes, but … we are the only Clan not to have a wizard from our main branch. Bullroar from the Sifters Clan rubs my nose in the fact every single time he sees me.”

He pulled himself together with a final ‘humph’ and then assumed that same sardonic expression from before. “Speaking of Clan Sisters. It is a pleasure to finally meet you properly young Dawnsfirstbloom.” And he stepped forward with an upraised hand for her to shake.

Dawnsfirstbloom studied him for a bit. This new goblin meant nothing to her, not like Harry Potter or Lightsthefire. Both of them she’d heard of all her life, long before she knew she was a witch, but this goblin? Fawning and scraping wasn’t really her thing, yes she’d done it to Harry Potter and Lightsthefire when she’d first met them, but they were special. It was a measure of the respect that she felt for them. But when it came to this goblin, who was totally unknown to her, she just couldn’t muster the same feelings.

So she decided to address him politely, but bluntly. “ ‘i there, pleased to meet you too, Sir. You must be one of the ‘igher-ups from the Deep Delvers, if I understand you correctly? You says we’ve met before, but I don’t recall you. Sorry.” She said, shrugging, but then, because she couldn’t let such a slight rest, she had to say, “But not so much of this ‘Cadet tribe’ stuff, you know I’m from the true Clan, the Deeper Delvers.”

There was an almost horrified stillness around Dawnsfirstbloom by those who knew exactly whom it was she was addressing. They all knew, as Dawnsfirstbloom didn’t, that within the goblin community, he wielded far more political power than either Lightsthefire or Harry did, or even both of them put together. No, Dawnsfirstbloom was just standing there, ignoring it all with a butter-wouldn’t-melt expression on her face. She wasn’t trying to be overtly rude, but the way the members of her small tribe felt, proudly believing that they were still the True Clan, they didn’t mind sticking it to the members of the main Clan when they could.

To all the adult’s relief he took it well. With a great laugh he said, “I shall choose to ignore your impertanance; your Chief gives me the same treatment every time I see him in the inter-tribal council sessions. I should expect it from other members of the _Rump_ of the former Great Clan. I suppose it goes to show that anything that comes from a rump is a much of a muchness.”

Dawnsfirstbloom could see that he wasn’t so bad, that he was giving as good as he got, so she cocked up one hip and actually stuck her tongue out at him, quickly and cheekily. It caused the attendant goblin beside him to gasp out in shock. The rest of the adults were just stunned, they couldn’t believe Dawnsfirstbloom was talking to him the way she was, but his reactions and the way he was giving it back to her was even more unheard of.

Dawnsfirstbloom’s behaviour simply made Slimshanks grin even wider as he continued on as if nothing had happened. “You might not remember me, but I was there when you were presented to the entire Clan as the new Witch; on that feast day we had especially for it.”

“Oh that. Were you one of the nobs giving all the speeches?”

“Yes indeed. One of the boring old goblins giving boring old speeches for the benefit of other boring old goblins.”

“Oh yeah, tell me about it. I would ‘ave fallen asleep, ‘cept one of me mates kept kicking my chair every time I nodded off. ‘e said that all them speeches was interesting, but ‘e’s like that.”

“That would be Littlehook, yes”

“Yeah,” Dawnsfirstbloom looked surprised, “ ‘ow did you know?”

“I am not here by chance, young Dawnsfirstbloom.” He said, and the playful tone that he had adopted with her before was gone. “My presence is in demand at this time of the year, but I was particularly requested to be here by someone I have been neglecting greeting for far too long. Please forgive the breach of etiquette, Mrs. Hermione Grangerweasley, Goblin Friend.”

Hermione walked forward with both arms outstretched. “It is entirely forgivable, old friend - Heart, Tribe, Clan, World - is the order is it not?”

Slimshanks took the outstretched hands in his own. “I forget sometimes how well you know our ways and culture.”

Hermione smiled at him “I just thank you for coming, Slimshanks, Clan Lord of the Deep Delvers. It has been too long”

Beside her, Rose noticed Dawnsfirstbloom give a little start at the mention of the goblin’s name and title. Rose suddenly realised that her little friend hadn't realised just whom it was that she had been talking to, but if Rose knew her friend at all, she wasn't expecting Dawnsfirstbloom to get upset or embarrassed over it. No, Dawn would just bluff her way through and keep on going as she'd begun. 

Slimshanks continued talking, “And yet we communicate each week with the voluminous correspondence that we send each other’s way. Standing here, I am reminded what a poor substitute it is for seeing you in person. You are looking lovely, Hermione Grangerweasley.”

Hermione blushed slightly, “That’s kind of you to say. You are looking good yourself.”

“Nonsense. I am feeling well, but I know I’m getting old. I fear that I have only a few more years in the office of Clan Lord and then it will be passed to another.”

“You’re not …” Hermione asked concernedly.

“Oh no. I am well, thank you, but there are younger goblins baying for more; eager to exercise greater Powers. A good leader knows when to step aside and appoint a successor worthy of the rank. But we are getting off the track I think.”

Hermione looked around, remembering where she was and why they were all here. “I suppose we are. I must thank you again for indulging me on what is probably only a trivial matter for your office.”

“No. It is my pleasure to help you, I would do so at any time,” a grin came to his lips as he added, “politics permitting. But in this case,” he turned serious, “No, in this case I think it may be far from trivial. From the few subtle investigations I have made there is more to it, it might just be the gleam of gold that points the way to a rich vein. What would you humans say? The thin end of the wedge, I believe, that’s what I’ve found, the thin edge of the wedge.”

He turned to Dawnsfirstbloom to address her. “I have been asked by Mrs. Grangerweasley to look into your troubles, young Dawnsfirstbloom. So I looked into your background, discretely of course, as she said that it was a matter that demanded discretion, and she was correct. That’s how I know who your friends are, though once I found out, I remembered exactly who that young cob was. It was a tragedy what happened to his parents.”

The grin slid from off Dawnsfirstbloom’s face at his words, she nodded her thanks to him for his kind regards and said, “yeah, it was.” Rose wondered just what had happened and would have liked to know, but she didn’t think that she could just bring it up in conversation, not with the obvious negative feelings generated by whatever had occurred.

Bringing the subject back on track, Slimshanks asked her, “Please, tell me what happened when you returned to your home tunnels.”

Dawnsfirstbloom gave a truncated version of events and Slimshanks asked pertinent questions as he needed. She finally came to a halt and Slimshanks quietly absorbed it all.

“What I can do, and it would be the simplest and the quickest way to deal with it, is to go in with the full might of the Main clan and set your council to rights.”

Dawnsfirstbloom wasn’t expecting that and she was momentarily lost for words.

“Well?” He prompted her, “it could be done very quickly. You could accompany me when we leave here and the whole operation could be carried out tomorrow.”

Dawnsfirstbloom didn’t know what to say. It was tempting, to think about seeing the councilors put into their places. But she had strong reservations that she couldn’t quite put into words. And she also didn’t want to say anything that might put Slimshanks off side.

She was still trying to work out what to say when Slimshanks spoke into the silence of her indecision. “You know that there is something wrong with my offer. Think about it, what exactly is it, what part of it is giving you reservations?”

Dawnsfirstbloom was trying to think, but she just couldn’t under the intense scrutiny of so many adults. She also couldn’t put her vague concerns into words in such a way that wouldn’t sound hurtful if she said them aloud.

Rose could see her friend struggling. She’d studied with Dawn often enough to know when she had no idea about something. Rose also knew that the young goblin was too close to it all emotionally to stand back and be objective. 

Because of this, she couldn’t help herself and jumped to her friend’s aid. “It’s a trap,” she blurted out. “It would solve her problems, but knowing how her tribe thinks, they’d never forgive her for bringing in the main Clan to sort out their internal problems.”

Rose thought that she might have overstepped her bounds, with the silent stares she was now getting - especially from Slimshanks’ aide who was hovering near his elbow and sending a death stare Rose’s way. But Dawnsfirstbloom turned her way with such a grateful expression on her face that Rose relaxed. She might have gone too far, butting in the way she did, but she only cared about Dawnsfirstbloom: so if Dawnsfirstbloom was happy about it then so was she.

“That is entirely correct,” Slimshanks said regarding Rose with a calculating set to his eyes. “And who might you be? Though a certain amount of filial resemblance may point the way.”

Dawnsfirstbloom leapt to introduce her friend. “So sorry my Clanlord. May I introduce Rose Weasley, Goblin Friend and daughter of Hermione Grangerweasley, the Freer of Elves? And Rose, let me introduce to you the Clanlord and head of the entire Deep Delvers,” without missing a beat she added, “whom I have known of and respected all my life.”

With what came before, it was obvious her last statement stretched the truth ever so slightly. It was with a big grin on his face at the young goblin’s cheekiness, that he shook hands with Rose. 

“A pleasure,” they both said together.

Slimshanks returned his attention back to Dawnsfirstbloom, “Rose Goblin Friend is entirely correct, do you see it now?”

“Yeah, ‘course I do. Now no offence meant your nob-ship, but my whole tribe would chuck me in a ‘ole and brick it up if I was to bring you lot into our tunnels.”

“No offence taken youngling, I know exactly what your tribe thinks of themselves and us too. In accepting my offer you would be solving minor problems only to create major, long-term ones. As much as I should like to run roughshod over your tribe - and believe me, some of its members have done enough to warrant my ire over the years - I have come to feel that it has a place within the greater Clan structure as a whole; a stabilising and balancing place.”

Slimshanks paused momentarily and a change seemed to come over him. Gone was the uncle-like figure who’d bantered with Dawnsfirstbloom, now the goblin standing before them was the Clanlord in all his might and power. “Know this, Dawnsfirstbloom of the Deeper Delvers, this is just one of many difficult decisions you will have to make in your life as a Clan Witch. Few are the easy choices given to goblins in our positions. Gone are your days of obscurity and inconsequence, you now will be thrust into positions where you speak not just for yourself, but for your entire tribe and even on occasions the whole Clan itself. Not all goblins wizards and witches have risen to the challenge, some have failed and sunk to menial, no account positions. But I think not for you. Not for a witch of the Deep Delvers. Not for a proud witch of the true Clan, that of the Deeper Delvers.”

Rose could see it for what it was, the powerful words of a master politician adept at wordcraft. His words were sincere, Rose wasn’t thinking that they weren’t, but they were definitely designed to appeal to Dawnsfirstbloom’s character and sense of self.

And Dawnsfirstbloom had responded. With his last few sentences she had stood straighter and taller. Without any cheekiness on her part, she curtsied to him and said, “I thank you for the advice, my Clanlord, I shall do my best to make the Clan proud, the entire Clan of the Deep Delvers.”

He returned the acknowledgement with a bow of his own. “So shall I start by furthering my enquires, discretely of course?”

Dawnsfirstbloom smiled in gratitude, “yes, please.” In her relief, Dawnsfirstbloom had instinctively grasped Slimshank’s forearm with both of her hands; as a way of confirming her thanks for all that he was doing for her. Next to him, that older female attendant of his bristled at the over-familiarity of Dawnsfirstbloom laying hands upon him. The death stare that she had thrown Rose’s way when Rose interrupted was as nothing to the one that she now directed at Dawnsfirstbloom.

“It’s settled then,” he said, placing his free hand over Dawnsfirstbloom’s in a fatherly sort of way. He glanced down at his watch which was now revealed by this action. “I should be going. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I’d been invited to a few functions tonight; I have another two, which I must be seen to attend.”

He turned to Hermione. “Thank you for bringing me in on this. It was a smart move meeting within the party like this - it should arouse little suspicion should news of our sudden meeting get out.”

Hermione nodded back. “You, and dear Lightsthefire of course, were the first I thought of when the girls told me what had happened. But something you said earlier got me thinking. It might be beneficial if we were to meet more often. With the amount of communication between us it might help us to sort out the…” Hermione ground to a halt, obviously not wanting to finish what she was saying in the manner in which she was about to say it. Instead, in a different tone she said, “of course, every letter that crosses my desk from your office is important, but a face to face meeting might facilitate the distinction between the ‘important ones’ and the ones we have to actually deal with.”

Slimshanks smiled at her words, rubbing his chin, “That’s not a bad idea. A monthly meeting?”

“That would suit me,” Hermione responded, “and if anything comes up regarding Dawnsfirstbloom’s problems, then you can acquaint me with them there.”

“Fine.” He turned to his aide, “Please make a note of it Heartspeakstrue, and liaise with the MLE office for a meeting ... towards the end of January?” He made the last into a question, turning to Hermione. She nodded back.

He turned back to them all. “It was a pleasure meeting you all, but I really must be going.”

He turned to leave and his place was filled by Lightsthefire making her hurried goodbyes too - she must have been leaving with him. She gave Dawnsfirstbloom another hug and a kiss on the cheek. “It was great to finally see you Dawnsfirstbloom, so good to have another witch in the Clan. I’m going to be gone for another six months, but I should be finishing my work in Africa then. I’ll be due for a break and that should match up with your end of school, so if you like we can get together then? I’ll keep in touch.” With a final hug, Lightsthefire was gone too.

Some adult in the crowd waved, catching Rose’s mum's attention and then she was gone, leaving the two girls alone. Rose and Dawnsfirstbloom were left a little speechless after all that had just happened. They looked at each other with similar expressions, not knowing exactly what to say. Rose was about to talk it over with her friend when Albus, with Scorpius a step behind, joined them with a “Hi ho, what was that all about?”

“Secret Goblin Business,” Dawnsfirstbloom said in mock seriousness and she and Rose couldn’t help but share a giggle.

Albus rolled his eyes, but asked, “Was that Auntie Lightsthefire?” Something about Dawnsfirstbloom’s eager nodding jogged Albus’ mind. “Hey, from what you told me ages ago, was that the first time you met her?”

At Dawnsfirstbloom’s further nodding, Albus said, “she’s awesome, isn’t she. I remember one time, when she’d come back from somewhere in Asia …” And he launched into a story, the first of a few, about the fascinating exploits of the equally interesting goblin witch; the one he called Auntie. Dawn chimed in too, with stories she’d heard and they sort of compared notes. Scorpius listened to them avidly, asking for more details about the stories that the pair both knew of and skipped over.

Rose couldn’t add much into the conversation. She knew all of the stories that Albus knew, but most of them had been told to Albus first, and he knew them all first hand and better. So she listened in and added a few things here and there, but found herself very much on the periphery of the group. Her attention wandered and she looked around the room. All the adults looked like they were having a great time, and a better and better time as midnight approached. Rose didn’t know what she was looking for until she couldn’t see it - there were no other kids around.

She knew that there’d be no little kids, they were taken off by Lily and Hugo after the nine o’clock fireworks. Well, Lily and Hugo and Molly too: Molly was being paid for her babysitting duties by Harry. But Rose knew that what the two younger kids had done was to go around to the other parents and bemoan their fate that they would have to miss most of the party. Each of the parents, in their semi-inebriated state, saw the injustice in that and insisted on giving them a ‘little something’ for their efforts. Consequently they were being paid four or five times over, for the same job. As much as she loved her brother, Rose suspected who was the mastermind of that particular scheme, and she didn't think it was him.

So she’d known that she’d see no little kids, but there were no big kids either. No James, no Fred. She’d seen Olivia go earlier, but there were none of the older kids, whom she’d seen at the beginning of the night, to be seen anywhere now. Rose turned her attention back to her friends only to find that the conversation had moved on from Lightsthefire, but to what, Rose couldn’t exactly fathom. So she lapsed back into inattention.

She was overcome with a feeling of alienation. She walked away from her friends and they hardly even noticed. She drifted amongst the adults of the party, but they too hardly acknowledged her existence. Moreover, a lot of them made little pretense that they resented her presence and would pointedly stop talking about whatever ‘adult’ stuff they were talking about, give her a look till she got the point and went away, whereupon they would begin talking once more.

Her treatment by the adults only furthered her sense of displacement from everyone. She kept wandering the party and eventually found her dad. By his voice and his manner, she knew that he’d ‘had a few.’

Tugging on his sleeve she tried to get his attention. “Dad. Dad!”

“Oh hey there Rosy-Posey, how’s my little girl then? Having a good time?”

“Actually, I’m feeling a bit tired. I think I’d like to go home.”

“Aw, that’s no good.” It took him a bit of effort, but he peered at his watch. “It’s not even nearly even Midnight, yet. Don’t you want to stay for the fireworks, chook?”

“Nah, not really. I saw the ones at nine,” she shrugged, “I just want to go home and go to bed.”

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Her friends did miss her, she would have been happy to know. They tracked down her mum who told them that Rose had told her dad that she was tired and wanted to go home to bed. None of the friends saw anything in it beyond its face value. So they didn’t worry about her and kept on having a great time.

* * *

**  
Here is the latest chapter and it just about wraps up the Christmas break. It is a bit of a rambling chapter, but it has fleshes out some of the characters (like Olivia) and adds some important stuff for Dawnsfirstbloom. We shall have to see what the denouement is when she goes home at the end of the school year - funnily enough, the chapters of which I am halfway finished as I type this and will start around chapter 35 or so. A small update, I have actually finished writing the chapters outlining the adventures of the pair when they go to the goblin tunnels, but I have still to type them up.**

**As she has been doing for the last few chapters, the wonderful Anja, aka Merlin’s Beard, has been looking over my work and giving me hints and tips. Apparently I have not been using enough commas - and there I was believing that I always used too many. As I said on the twitters, prepare yourselves for commageddon.**

**Any reviews, especially criticism is always welcome and I will respond to everything in time.  
**


	25. Back to School From the Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our main heroine has a case of the existential ennui, and wonders why exactly.
> 
> Bletching abounds: What is necessary in one game, is not so much in another one: A prank as a tribute to the father: Johnny-on-the-spot finds out more than she bargained for
> 
> _He said, in a soft voice that didn’t carry beyond them. “I think you should go back to Chasing for a bit because if you carry on how you're going, I'm going to have to send you off for good.”_

**Note: If I was writing about Roslyn playing the broomstick game and talking to Jamie, then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**… hey wait a sec, aww, none of my original characters get much of a seeing in this chapter, *sobs***

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.**

**The Chapter image was painted by myself.  
**

* * *

 

Chapter 25: Back to School From the Holidays.

 

Rose came back from the Christmas break with the same sort of malaise that she’d felt at the New Year’s Party. No, malaise was too strong a word for her feeling; discontent perhaps?

The rest of the holidays had been OK, the few remaining days that there had been. They’d played together at her house or at the Burrow. There had even been a trip into town or two. Rose had been convinced to put her mild enmity for Scorpius aside, not that it manifested itself in any real way beyond a bit of discourtesy now and then, when they met up with him and Albus on a couple of occasions.

One day, for instance, they had a big game of Quidditch with all the cousins at the Burrow. 

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Apparently it had been organised sometime at the party on New Year’s and James had told Albus who’d finally passed it on to Rose. With all the cousins and the few ring-in friends, there was just enough for a full game with two sides. Molly didn’t want to play, she never did. She could fly well enough - all the Weasley kids could - but she didn’t like the game at all, not even to watch.

Hugo went Ref and Rose was tickled pink to see how happy he was. The Christmas presents had been a brilliant move on her dad’s part because Hugo did truly love the game and love to fly. He just hated how awkward and clumsy he was in any and all of the positions - and in a desire to please his father, he’d tried them all. But now, flying around with his Christmas whistle, telling the older cousins what to do (a circumstance he’d never been able to take advantage of before), Rose could tell he was in his element.

And he was a remarkably fair ref too; he was unbiased and called it as it was. In the Chrissy game, the one that he’d reffed with the adults, he’d been a bit reticent, but now, with players closer to his own age, he came into his own. He even stood up to James, full on, at one point.

Hugo had blown his whistle on him and James had flown up, right into Hugo’s face and argued the point. Hugo had put up with it stoically for a bit then blown his whistle right back into the stunned James’ face.

“Listen James,” he’d said and, though it wasn’t on purpose, it was loud enough that everyone heard and took note. “That was the worst case of attempted bletching I’ve ever seen. It’s lucky Roxy has such good reflexes and got out of your way or she’d have ended up on the ground. You’re lucky I’m only giving your team a penalty; if you do it again, or fly up here and get in my face again, I’ll send you off, see if I don’t.”

James, that same James who flew in the face of authority more often than not, with only a grumble, flew back into position and waited for Hugo to resume play. Rose could tell that Hugo was caught up in the play of the game and wasn’t now lording his win over his cousin. No, he’d stood up to his cousin as a necessity, not for any other reason. Rose was prouder of her little brother than she’d ever been and pleased, too, with her dad for being the best.

Rose and her brother fought like any kids will, but it was never about anything too serious, nor did it ever descend into being truly hateful. Rose had been nearly two when her brother had been born and so neither had ever really known a time without each other. They were similar enough to get on, but dissimilar enough not to get in each other’s way. Add to that the not inconsiderable aid to sibling domesticity - that they did not have to share a bathroom.

Anyway, she was genuinely happy for her brother.

It wasn’t all sunshine and happiness for Rose, however. The problem with Rose, sometimes, was that she had a bit of a competitive streak. Even with that, everything might have been fine, except another problem arose that made it come to the fore. There were only just enough kids to have a proper game with two even sides. There were not enough for two completely full teams, they would have needed fifteen kids for that, with an extra one included for the ref, but they only had thirteen.

There was an easy solution to that bit of the problem, they just played with two Beaters. Fred rarely got to play his preferred position in the games with his cousins, and now that he had become a beater on the Gryffindor team, he was even more desirous not to have to settle for a position that wasn’t his own. Usually he had to be the goalie, the other undesirable position as far as most of the rest of the cousin's proclivities went because most of them wanted to be Chasers or Seekers. 

Fred normally had to try to convince someone else to be the other Beater, which was usually a fruitless task, given the normal array of cousins, but not so today. For once there was an extra member of their group and she even volunteered. Fred could have kissed her, but he settled instead for running over and lifting her off the ground in a massive hug. Dawnsfirstbloom managed to extricate herself from his arms and push him away, saying, “I told Rose once that a lot of goblins would pay for a chance to ‘it metal balls at wizards and I guess this is my chance ”

Dawnsfirstbloom could fly well enough, she knew that before she’d entered Hogwarts; from her Goblin education back in the Home tunnels. Plus, her duties with a shovel and her sword work had left her with surprising upper body strength; especially for someone her size. She took to being a Beater quite well. Fred took her under his wing and in no time at all pronounced her not only fit to play but a potential Gryffindor Beater to look out for in the future.

So while the Beater thing worked out to everyone's satisfaction, there was the matter of only two available positions for Seeker and three people wanting to fill the role. Self-effacingly, and because he was the outsider, Scorpius said he’d sub out, but Albus would have none of it.

“You're the guest here, you should definitely play. I'll,” he paused for dramatic effect, “have Rose swap out.”

Rose went into shocked anger and was about to blow up at him when Albus diffused the situation. “Calm down Rose, I didn't mean it. Don't get your knickers in a twist.” She threw a bottle at him, but he easily caught it “We can all take turns swapping out as Chasers while the other two are seeking.”

“Actually,” Scorpius said, “when I'm not seeking I'd prefer to defend the hoops. If that’s OK.”

Again, this suited everyone, because it was only Roxy who actively wanted to be a Keeper. With smaller family groups it usually didn’t matter - they just used the one set of goals defended by Roxy. In larger games, she had to get one of the Chasers to sub out at the opposite set of hoops. They were happy to be relieved of what they saw as a chore and would have had Scorpius play Keeper all day except Albus said it was unfair; Scorpius had to have some time as a Seeker.

When Rose was Chaser everything was OK. She allowed herself to have fun and was quite a generous player: passing the quaffle on and generally being unselfish. It was because she didn't really care about the position and didn’t let her own ego get in the way. As a Seeker, it was a different matter. Her competitive streak came out and she played to win.

She wasn't so happy with some of Hugo’s calls then. He got her for bletching, for excessive use of knees, and for deliberate obstruction. It was bad enough against Albus, but when it was against Scorpius she almost lost it. She was bad enough that Hugo had to whistle play to a stop and call Rose over.

“What do you think you're doing Ro Ro.” he said in a soft voice that didn’t carry beyond them. “I think you should go back to Chasing for a bit because if you carry on how you're going, I'm going to have to send you off for good.”

Rose had to accept it but she did so with ill grace and spent the rest of the day being a Chaser.

Albus and Scorpius also left the position, because Lily and Alice wanted to have a go at Seeking. They hardly ever got to and jumped at the chance.

Because of that, Rose ended the day a little better in spirits than she might have otherwise. Even so, she still had trouble letting go of her ire with Hugo for rest of the holidays - Rose was ever one to confuse the messenger and the message. 

She even found out that Scorpius was a damn good goalie. After the game, there wasn’t a moment alone where she could ask Albus about it. It left a niggle of an unanswered question - something Rose hated. It stubbornly stayed in the back of her mind for the few days that were left of the break. 

 

\--o-O-o--

 

So it was that as the term began, she was feeling a certain discontent. She wondered if it was caused by things left undone over the Christmas break, so she was tidying up some of the loose ends left over, hoping that would ease her ‘meh’.

She’d been a bit angry at Hugo still, but in the cool light of day she realised that he'd been right. So in one of her semi-frequent letters home, she asked her mum to send along belated thanks to Hugo for being the ref for all the cousins and doing such a good job. She always did cool down without the object of her ire right in front of her.

So the Hugo thing was one thing, but the other one was her desire to know how Scorpius had become such a good Keeper. When she finally caught Albus alone she asked it of him. He told her that it was because of Scorpius’s cousin. She was a Chaser and so when they got together Scorpius would always cover the goals and let her practice shooting. When he added, “because, Rose, you don’t really need anyone else to practice being a Seeker,” it really got to her.

She was suddenly struck with a vivid mental image of Scorpius growing up alone: without friends, without any close family his own age, the boy loving Quidditch and realising that the only position he could really practice on his own was that of Seeker. This lonely little boy, spending hours releasing a snitch, racing through sculpted English gardens with not a single other person to be seen, except for maybe a stray gardener or two. He’d catch the snitch only to release it and do it all over again and again. 

It was a depressing picture and only really made her sadder for a time. She had to break through this depression, but it wasn't depression - she couldn’t really call it that. When Rose thought about it, she knew depression was the wrong description as she was still having a great time learning spells and being with Dawnsfirstbloom and Albus and the other cousins. Yeah life in the castle was a bit samey everyday - get up and run, breakfast, lessons, lunch, lessons, study, homework, sleep - but the spells were always different and there was always the quidditch.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

The first match, after they got back, was almost a repeat of the one just before the break, funnily enough, and it was to be Rose's first and last official House Cup game. But the actual game itself went completely differently than the game before Christmas and it wasn't just because of the lack of the third Seeker.

What was necessary in the House Cup competition was very different to that of the Albus Cup one. Firstly, there had been far more games in the Albus Cup over the course of the year than in the proper House Cup. And secondly, in the proper House Cup, each house only played each other the once, and therefore points were paramount; it was quite possible to win every game but lose the Cup.

The tactical move against Ravenclaw of trying for and succeeding in an early snitch catch had shut down the two best Chaser teams in a low scoring game. So now, against Hufflepuff, who had the weakest squad of chases, it was important that Gryffindor score well.

So it was a moral quandary for Rose when, in the 26th minute of play, with the score only sixty/ten to Gryffindor, that she caught sight of the snitch in a stationary position. Trying not to be too obvious in looking for Albus, and thus attracting his attention, she spied him some distance away. It was so tempting, because it was such an easy catch. Doing so wouldn’t be too bad because they would win two hundred points to ten. No one would argue against that, but Rose didn't need Olivia's pregame talk to know that they needed much more as a buffer against Ravenclaw and even Slytherin. 

She dithered in place and tantalizingly so did the snitch. She had to make a choice and it had to be before Albus could catch sight of the still stationary snitch. Rose threw herself forward and raced towards nothing, halfway up the pitch.

Albus saw her dive and chased down the nothing too. When they both recovered from the fake out, Rose looked back towards the goal post and was relieved that the snitch wasn't anywhere to be seen. 

The game dragged on, as far as Rose was concerned, and after about three more hours two things occurred to make Rose actively seek out the snitch, and not just spoil Albus' attempts at it as she had been doing. The first was that the difference in score hit about three hundred points and she thought that that was enough of a buffer for anyone; especially if she caught the snitch. The second thing was that she caught sight of her dad in the stands. He hadn't told her he was going to be there and his presence made her want to catch the snitch even more.

In the end though, Albus did get to the snitch first and the game ended with the score on the Gryffindor side just a bit more than double that of the puffers: 430 to 210.

Rose marched into the change rooms a bit disappointedly. The rest of the team were happy, but Rose couldn't help but feel a bit dispirited. She plopped herself down on the bench to listen to Olivia's after game speech.

“Ok, all of you, a great win out there today and we owe it all to one thing.”

The Chasers, especially the show-offs James and Kylie, sure thought it was them; smiling and winking at each other. But then Olivia said, “No, one thing and one person, rather.”

Both James and Kylie dropped their mouths open in mock outrage. Then James, followed very closely by Kylie, formed himself up like an old-timey boxer and started revolving his fists around. Kylie stood there and did the same, having a mock fight and landing not a single punch.

Olivia overrode the laughing of the team by shouting, “and it was neither of you two idiots.” The pair of them immediately stopped their play boxing and each slumped their shoulders down in bitter, abject, and highly comical dejection.

Olivia herself couldn’t keep from laughing at the pair, but everyone quieted down and now the team wondered who she meant. They began to wonder if Olivia could mean herself? An awful amount of goals were saved by her and people were beginning to look at her questionly, but she put that thought to rest when she said, “and nope I don't mean me either. No, one person doing one thing was responsible for our epic win, and that was Rose Weasley, and what she did was not to catch the snitch.”

Whatever it was that Rose expected her to say, it wasn't that and by the surprised expressions on her teammate’s faces - all of whom had turned to look at her - they didn't expect it either.

“Yep, Rose didn't catch the snitch … deliberately.” All the team turned back to Olivia, “and it happened in the 26th minute, I looked at my watch. If she had of caught it then, we would still have won, yeah, but we’d have only gotten 200 points. Ok, now you all know what I said before the game, we needed a big score and Rose not catching the snitch gave us that.”

“Now, I’m not talking about a difficult catch either, it was probably one of the easiest potential snitch catches I've ever seen. Rose was only twenty metres away or so, and from the time I saw it, it hung around for a minute twenty two. I looked at my watch. It could have been there longer, because I only saw it after seeing her looking at it.”

The teammates were all looking around at her again and Rose was blushing furiously. James gave her a big grin and a massive wink.

“And that's why we're going to win the cup this year, OK. We're not just players, no, we’re a team. If we were the sum of our parts then we'd be awesome, because each of you are,” she tried to come up with another adjective, but obviously couldn’t think of one, “well, you’re all awesome. But because you all do what's best for the team and not just for yoursleves then we’re … we’re super, fucking awesome, and the CUP IS OURS!”

 

\--o-O-o--

 

She was buoyed by Olivia's words and by the pats on the back from the rest of the team.

Her spirits flagged a little bit when she exited the change room to find her father waiting for her. But she needn't have worried, he got it.

He lead off with, “Hi there chook, good game.” And gave her a hug, he released her and asked, “I don't suppose ... because in that early game you did a fair few Wronskis … I don't suppose you saw the snitch and were deliberately leading Albus away, were you?”

It might have been phrased like a question, but her dad made it sound like a statement. He knew alright, she nodded, and with a smile said, “Yes Daddy, twice. Once when it was a really easy catch for me, and once where I saw it flypast close behind Albus.”

“Good work my little Rosie: teams always beat players. After you kept Ravenclaw down to minimal, and their tight game against Slytherin, I think Gryffindor have got this one.”

Rose looked at her father in surprise. “Yeah Rosie, I'm paying attention. I might not be at every game, but I was never going to miss seeing my little girl play in her first House Cup game.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

The High from the game kept her going for a few weeks but it began to wear off and, too soon for Rose’s liking, that low feeling began to return.

Nothing seemed to shake it: not quidditch, not lessons, not family, not Dawnsfirstbloom, and not even all the pranking that James and Fred were doing. 

And there was a lot of that: from inappropriately timed fireworks that could go off at any time, anywhere, to the day when all the food in the Great Hall changed into its complementary colour (it was surprisingly difficult to eat a banana with purple skin and black inside, or a blue orange), to the desert that appeared in a third-floor corridor.

The desert had been a highlight, and apparently had been the reason that their pranking had fallen to nil in the month before Christmas. During that time, the two boys had poured their efforts into researching and devising the spell. They'd worked most of it out for themselves before the break, but then they had approached Fred's Dad to help them fine tune it; almost as soon as they’d gotten off the train in London. He'd been over the moon about the boys’ efforts. He was touched at the boy's homage to his, and his twins, most famous and lasting prank, so he’d purchased them lunch in a Diagon Alley cafe, and promised to market the 'Portable Desert' through his shops. “But only after you've done it first, boys, wouldn't want to spoil your surprise.”

They dropped it in the spacious third floor corridor, but, through the use of a time delay activation, they could honestly be somewhere else when it went off. It did so sometime in first lesson. Both boys were pleasantly surprised to hear a buzz about it in the second lesson. Because of their classes, they could only meet up at lunch, so they did and decided to innocently go and check out the desert for themselves.

When they got there they could see the artificial sunlight and heat, but that was all, because the rest of the desert was concealed behind the crowd of students gathered around it. The boys grinned heartily at each other and joined the edge of the crowd. But once they did, something strange happened.

After being recognised by some of the kids at the edge of the crowd, a whisper went through the crowd and it became strangely silent. The students in front of them stepped aside and the crowd parted to let them through.

James was nonplussed. It was an eerie thing: the silence; and the crowd moving aside like it did; and all the silent faces turned their way. But all was soon explained because there, in the middle of the desert, was Professor McGonagall lying down on a beach chair. 

The figure was obviously her. The robes were hers, even though she’d rolled up the sleeves to her elbows and folded up the hem to her knees. The hat was hers too. The only doubt as to her identity came because the aforementioned hat was pulled down over her face, shielding it from the artificial sunlight.

She must have sensed the presence of the two boys because she tilted up the brim of her hat with one hand. Through a raised eyebrow she regarded them and without any preamble said, “detention every night for the rest of the week.” She stood up and in doing so produced her wand. She gave it a fancy flick and studied something that no one else there could see and said, “And one further night's detention, in about three weeks time. I'll let you know when.”

She shook her sleeves and dress down and began to walk away, but she must have thought of something else and turned back to the boys. “Impressive combination of charms work and transfiguration. I suppose you got a lot of help in constructing the spell, gentleman?”

Fred immediately said, “No way, Miss. We had the sand and the sun all worked out ourselves, but the heat was tricky and the sun kept going out. That's the only bit we had help with, I swear.”

James groaned and shook his head.

McGonagall said, “I suppose you used a combination of the Lumos, the Flagrante and the Hot-air charm?”

Fred nodded. “That's right, Miss. That's the only help we had because it's Newt level, to combine spells like that.”

He’d said it all, still not knowing the trap he was setting himself. James knew and cuffed his cousin about the back of head, as McGonagall said, “thank you Mr. Weasley. So good to have one’s suspicions about the culprits confirmed.” Fred looked shocked. “If you keep this level of effort up you might just pass your charms course after all. Miss Chang tells me it's a close thing as it stands. Good day gentlemen, don't forget detention, you know the way.”

Fred groaned, only now getting his faux pas. For somebody who liked pranking as much as he did, he had an unfortunate character flaw: an honest disposition combined with a remarkable gullibility.

Miss Chang was his charms teacher. Like McGonagall, Flitwick was close to retirement and also like McGonagall, he’d selected his replacement and was easing her into the eventual position. McGonagall’s replacement had been here for years, because the duties of Headmistress consumed most of her time. She only took the classes that she did because she wanted to. But Flitwick had only had Professor Chang for this last year.

For the next few weeks the desert became extremely popular. A proliferation of deck chairs appeared almost overnight and was inhabited on a daily basis by students during free periods. As the bitter January winds rattled the panes in their windows, the students luxuriated in the sand and the artificial sunlight.

Three weeks later, the boys received a note to meet each other at the desert late in the afternoon. The desert was a shade of its former self: overnight the heat had died down to almost nothing and the sun kept flickering off and on like a faulty neon tube. As they were surveying their handywork, taking in the few abandoned beach chairs that were left, the sun flickered out for last time. And the answer as to whom had sent the note became apparent when behind them McGonagall appeared with a “Well, boys-”

The boys would have sworn she appeared out of nothing and they both nearly jumped out of their skins.

“It was good while it lasted, but now comes the cleanup and hence the need for the rest of your detention.”

The boys noted that in each of her hands, the elderly witch carried two shovels. And they began to dread what the rest of the night would bring, and rightfully so. 

“In later years, when you come to do transfiguration for your OWL’s, you will find that there are five exceptions to Gamp’s laws of fundamental transfiguration: and sand is one of them. Pure silicate is a different matter, but any fine particulate which could be a mixture of different substances - such as sand or dirt - cannot be transfigured away. As your parents could tell you, otherwise cleaning your house would be a lot simpler than it is.”

“The reason for the necessity of borrowing these shovels from Mr. Filch is thus explained.”

They heard cackle from behind McGonagall and saw Filch on his way, manoeuvring a large wheelbarrow in front of him. “You will be needing this an’ all” he said, with unrepressed glee.

The boys looked in horror at the manual tools and were only mollified a bit when McGonagall said, “don't worry, boys, you will not have to cart the sand outside. I had Mr. Filch arrange with the House-elves to reroute a laundry shoot on this level. You will find its location halfway along the corridor to the right. Mr Filch will be using the sand on the paths around the castle to make them less slippery; so it is a win all around.”

McGonagall left them as the boys begrudgingly set to work. She returned stealthily after a couple of hours to find the work nearly finished. She kept out of sight because she could hear them discussing what they could do for the next major prank. They were employing a sort of code, which worked on the magically naive Filch, who still stood on guard over them, insuring their continued efforts. For McGonagall, however, it was apparent what some of the things the boys were planning were likely to be and honestly she couldn't wait.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

It was after this that Rose had an interesting conversation with James which set her to thinking. It stayed with her in the weeks to come and kept reverberating in her mind when she got too lost in her ‘meh.’

It was late on one weekend, a Saturday night and Rose was reading on one of the comfy chairs in the common room. She had a bit of a doze before, not that she really realised - she thought that she’d just nodded off for a second and dropped her book for a bit and then resumed reading. In actuality she’d slept for three quarters of an hour.

After the events of early on in the year, over her seat in the Great Hall, no one was ever going to wake her from these little naps she took; just in case. But it didn’t matter, when she slept like this, it was the sleep of the dead. Over the course of the year everyone else soon found out that they could talk just as loudly as they liked and nothing would rouse her till her half an hour to three quarters of an hour had passed.

Albus was in the common room, along with a few of his mates, and not all of them Gryffindors. For once, for some reason, Scorpius wasn’t with them.

Rose read a few more desultory pages, not really processing what she’d read, and heard the boys talking about leaving. She found herself in agreement. It wasn't a bad idea and she was picking up her stuff to go to bed too, when James came in through the portrait hole.

He was out of breath and grinning. Fred fell through the still open doorway moments later. Albus and the other boys laughed, as James caught and steadied his older cousin.

“And just what have you two been up to then?” Albus said in a stern voice that was eerily close to Mcgonagall’s.

James threw his head up and around in a ‘busted’ kind of way. He relaxed when he saw that it was only his little brother and with a smirk said, “ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies.”

“Come on James, some of my mates have to walk back to their dorms. I don't want them to run into any surprises on the way.”

James paused considering it. Albus cocked his head to the side to coerce him into revealing what traps or pranks he had laid. 

He relented with reasonable grace. “OK then, in the spirit of camaraderie of those who are Johnny-on-the-spot. On the condition, though, that you tell no one.”

“OK, they won't tell.”

“No I need to hear it from them. Hold up your wand hands. Now repeat after me: I solemnly swear not to tell anyone else.”

“I solemnly swear not to tell anyone else,” all the boys intoned.

“Otherwise I will be the target of James’ next prank.” James said.

There was some protest and James said, “fine. Then you'll discover it for yourself.”

A discontented muttering arose from the collected boys, but they eventually all raised their hands again and said, “or James will prank us next.”

“OK Boys, that'll do. You're safe for now, but on Monday I’d avoid going through the main East Wing corridor if I were you.” 

“What will happen if we do?” Somebody asked.

“Not telling, and you won't either, not even in a roundabout way. Though if you want to know first hand, feel free to head that way sometime during that day.”

Seeing that they would get nothing more out of him, Albus said, “OK, thanks James.” He looked at his mates and saw that they were picking up their stuff. “I'll see you later then.”

A thought must have crossed James's mind because he said, “hold up. Where are you sleeping tonight, little bro?” 

Albus shrugged, “I hadn't decided.”

“Good. Would you mind going to Slytherin?”

He looked at the tall black boy, who shrugged his acceptance. Albus shrugged too, “yeah, alright. Why?”

“I borrowed Susie Atwater’s charms notes and I promised I'd get them back to her. Would you take them and give them to her in the morning?”

At Albus’ nod, James said, “thanks bro, be back in a tick.”

James left and Albus dismissed his other friends. “Go on guys, you might as well go. I'll go with this big lug.” Gesturing to the one Slytherin that was with them. They all trooped away and shortly after, James was back.

“Here you go, bro. Thanks for this.”

“No probs, but if I'm doing this for you, then you’ll let me tell Scorpius about the prank.”

James had narrowed his eyes as Albus started to propose his quid-pro-quo, but when it was only him having to tell Scorpius about it, James relaxed. “Oh yeah of course. I always thought you’d tell your bu*”, he was going to say bum chum, but hastily corrected himself, “b-best mate so no worries.”

“Thanks James. See you later. Bye Rosie.”

“Don't call me that,” she said on automatic.

“Later, Miss Weasley.” Said the tall Slytherin boy and, nodding politely in her direction, he followed Albus out of the room.

She nodded to his back, but he was gone.

“Hey Rose,” said James, “didn't see you there.” He waved goodnight and turned his back on her to go up the stairs to bed.

“You've changed your tune haven't you.”

At Rose's words he stopped and turned back to her.

His brow crinkled with his lack of understanding of Rose’s words, but his face relaxed when he began to understand as Rose kept talking.

“With Scorpius at the party last year, and now this. I thought you didn't think much of Albus being in every house, especially in Slytherin. And now you're cosying up to the Slytherin girl for her charms notes? What happened to the James who almost threw Scorpius out of the common room just for being a Slytherin?”

She didn’t mean for it to come out so inquisitorial and harsh when she’d started talking, but it all seemed to blunder it's way out and now hung there in the air between them.

But James didn't fly off the handle. That was the thing about her and James - he acted so completely differently around her than he did around everyone else: friends, cousins, parents, siblings. When he was alone with her, all his masks fell away for some reason. They always had, and the James that emerged around her said things to her that he wouldn't say in a thousand years to anyone else. In a million years to someone like Fred.

His face and voice went completely deadpan, as he said to her, “Rose, I built a bridge.”

The stark simplicity of his words and their brutal honesty rocked her back on her heels. That he was also referring to that lame expression slash joke that Albus had thrown his way back in their first weeks here, spoke volumes as to how it must have weighed upon his mind.

“Rosie,” he said moving closer to her and choosing his words, “Rose. We both know that Albus is better than either of us.”

“I know,” he said, raising a hand dismissively, “we're both better than him in some ways; like me with the ladies.” He said it jokingly, throwing up a male model type of pose that made Rose snort. “Or you with your spells. In those ways and others we’re better than him, but we both know that he's the better man, the better person, yeah?”

“I'm extremely proud of you, Rose, for being sorted without the Hat on. It's awesome. I know you still think it was having a go, but you're so Gryffindor it hurts and now the whole world knows. But in the end, even though your sorting was a bit different, you were still sorted into only one house like everyone in the history of Hogwarts before you.”

“But Albus … Albus was the first ever, to be sorted into every house and you know what that says about him, as a person. It says what we've always known about him doesn't it?”

Rose’s mind could only race as she digested what James had said. She knew he was right, but to have James not only aware of it, but also to be so matter of factly accepting of it …

It explained a lot of James' recent tolerance towards Albus bringing his non-Gryffindor mates back to the common room.

“You know I'm going to be a quidditch star, don't you, when I leave here? I’ll play Chaser for the Tornados or the Falcons or ... I haven't really decided yet. So everything else about school, yeah it's important but,” he shrugged, “it's Quidditch number one for me. So that’s all and good, but then along comes Albus. He's not here for five minutes and he's already rewritten the rules of Quidditch and has a league named after him. And you know what gets me about it? He's probably not even going to play it after school.”

James laughed mirthlessly, “Oh yeah, we’ve both got our bet on if he might play for England before or after he leaves school, but …” He looked away from Rose and shook his head, closing his eyes whilst he did so. “It's my life’s dream and he … I mean it won't be nothing to him, but it’s what I want and he …” He broke off as he could see the pity blossoming on Rose’s face, so he decided to head it off by changing the subject slightly.

“As for Suzy, the thing you have to understand about her, Rosie, is that she is also extremely hot.”

Rose smiled at him but then realised what she was smiling at and went, “ew” at James in a mock way and stuck her tongue out at him.

James grinned along with her. “And she's not too bad at charms, so it's all good for me, isn't it.” 

Rose shook her head and punched James in the arm as she walked past. “You're incorrigible James. Night.” She said to him as she left the common room behind and walked up to bed, thoughts of Albus swirling around in her mind.

* * *

****

**Author’s Note:  
As my beta, the wonderful Anja (she of the Merlins_beard), pointed out, and quite rightly so, this is a filler chapter. It is, but it is held together, I believe, by the thread of Rose’s state of mind. The strands of which shall be picked up and explored in the chapters to come.**

**Speaking of Anja, she overcame illness and injury - specifically those sustained in diving away from a truck that was going to run her down - to beta my chapter. That sort of dedication is wonderful and so warms my heart … now that’s enough lying around, on to the next chapter - your injuries were to your ribs, not your typing fingers, so get betaing. ;)**

**As always, any and all comments are welcome and wonderful.  
**


	26. Rose's Charms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our major player teaches someone else and in the process does a little learning herself.
> 
> On the nature of jealousy versus rivalry; the basic nature of charms is explored; a challenge as to Rose’s sorting is mentioned, to Rose’s displeasure; and, Rose is battered over the head with a realisation about James that makes her think.
> 
> _James looked impressed, but the Slytherin girl said, somewhat archly. “I guess it helps if your mum's the head of Magical Law Enforcement.”_

**Note: If I was writing about Roslyn teaching Jamie about Charming spells, then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**… hey wait a sec, aww, none of my original characters get much of a seeing in this chapter, *sobs***

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.**

**The Chapter image was painted by myself.  
**

* * *

 

Chapter 26: Rose’s Charms

 

The conversation with James reverberated around in her head for the weeks and months to come. It wasn't anything she didn't already know, but James had put into words some of her vague disquiet.

She knew Albus was great and, if she searched her soul, she knew he was the better person. _Well not better at everything_ , Rose’s inner voice had to chime in. She was heaps better than him, well and nearly everyone else too, at schoolwork. She was top of the year in most of her subjects like Potions and History of Magic. She still had her problems with charms, but she always managed to master them all in the end and she was close to the top of the class in it too. In Making Stuff she was determined to finish everything that she started and she had so far, even though her wooden pencil case was decidedly wonky and the less said about her toolbox the better. As for Transfiguration, Rose was not only the top of the year she was also probably the top of Second Year and maybe even the top of Third Year too. To keep her interested, McGonagall had her doing extension work in spells from those years and, truth to be told, she was fast running out of those. 

So she knew she was better at spellcraft, but that wasn't what James had meant and when she was being honest with herself, she knew it too. Rose wasn't one to pay much heed to introspection, she was the sort to march boldly through life, head held high, knowing that she was awesome. But James’ words had ignited a niggle of doubt within her. Was this existential ennui that she felt sometimes, especially since the Christmas break, because she was jealous of Albus?

It wasn't that their friendship had lessened, that wasn't it at all. She’d already examined her feelings in that area. Their friendship had diluted somewhat, that was only natural. When it had been only her and Albus in their childhood, and precious few others, their friendship had been intense. Of course that intensity had lessened now that Rose had Dawnsfirstbloom and Albus had Scorpius and the rest of the gaggle of boys that those two hung around with. That was fine. She still had Sunday afternoons with Albus, the ones that didn't have Quidditch. That's when Dawnsfirstbloom would go off with the Malfoy scholarship kids and do whatever it was they did. Scorpius went with that lot too, so it was only her and Albus hanging out together.

It wasn't even Scorpius. She didn't blame him for stealing Albus away from her, well, not that much. No, Scorpius roused far different passions in her than this subtle existential ennui. Rose still couldn't really interpret his emotions or his underlying intentions, for the life of her. But one thing she thought she was detecting was that underneath that mask he wore around her, behind the toffy accent and manners, Scorpius was secretly smirking at her. When he did it, standing there cool as a cucumber, Rose just wanted to slap that mask right off his face then keep going and slap that hidden smirk right off his face too.

So it wasn't him either, causing it, so could it be her own jealousy over Albus? 

It caused her a little bit of disquiet over a couple of weeks until she met the thing head on. She analysed her own feelings, she analysed him, and the situation, too, and came to the conclusion … that she was being ridiculous.

Of course she wasn't jealous of Albus, how could she be, she loved him unconditionally. Well, as unconditionally as Rose ever got. 

So what if he had other friends? So did she. 

So what if he was in all the houses? She only wanted to be in Gryffindor anyway. 

So what if he got to play in more House games than she did? They were all just stoked that any of the first years got to play at all. 

So what if he had invented new rules of quidditch and had a whole competition named after him ... actually, there was something there. Not jealousy, but there was something about it that was trying to tell her what was wrong, what was causing her this strange existential angst. Like having a word on the tip of your tongue, the more she chased it, the more it slipped away.

Funnily enough, when understanding came, it was again James who was responsible for her finding out what had been nagging at her. 

 

\--o-O-o--

 

James had organised a study session with that Slytherin girl he borrowed the charms notes from. For some reason they were having the session in the Gryffindor common room. The pair of them were on a sofa together with their notes spread out on a table in front of them.

Rose was in an armchair that happened to be facing the pair. She was finishing an essay of her own and wasn't paying them that much attention, except for noting that James was probably doing equal parts learning and equal parts flirting. 

Rose finished her essay and emerged from her concentration to hear James trying to perform the summoning charm. “Accio book. Accio pen. Accio cushion.” But everything he pointed his wand at stayed resolutely where it was. The girl beside him put a restraining hand on James’s arm, she could tell, as could Rose, that James was becoming seriously annoyed. He usually didn't let his ‘I'm-so-cool-I'm-James-friggin-Potter’ mask slip.

“James, maybe you should give it a rest. Come back to it later after you've had a chance to let it stew for a bit.” The girl beside him said in a concerned way.

“No, let me see you do it again.”

The girl drew her wand. “Accio book. Accio pen. Accio cushion.” The three items, that had not even moved at James's command, now flew into the arms of the Slytherin girl.

James had watched her intently each time and then he threw up his hands in exasperation. “That's exactly what I was doing.”

Rose decided to take pity on him. She reached into her bag for a piece of fruit and found an apple, _perfect_. With her strict ‘no-snacking-between-meals-except-on-fruit’ policy, she always had some fruit in her bag at all times. “Hey James, catch.” Without giving him any more warning than the ‘hey James,’ she threw the apple at him as she was saying ‘catch’.

She was counting on his superb chaser reflexes and they didn't disappoint. He threw out his hand, palm up, and as he caught the apple he wrapped his fingers around it and rolled back his wrist.

“What the hell Rose?” James asked with a look that said he wasn't amused by having apples chucked at him on top of not being able to do the charm. 

Rose motioned for him to throw it back and he did so. “Hey Fred.” she said to another of her cousins who was also standing nearby. 

“Huh?” he said turning around and looking at her. Fred had pretty good reflexes too, but his first reaction wasn't to catch balls coming his way, unlike James, his was to beat them out of the way. So that’s why Rose gave him extra warning than James. “Here, catch.” said Rose and threw the Apple to him to him.

He caught it easily, but unlike James he swatted it out of the air; moving his wrist down instead of up.

As Rose motioned for him to throw it back, James said, “what are you doing? I'm trying to study here.”

“James,” Rose said, looking at him seriously, “do the charm again, but instead of holding your wand out with your thumb uppermost, roll your hand over and do the charm with your palm upwards and your thumb to the side.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, but went along with what she was saying. “Accio book.”

The book didn't budge, but before he could say anything more, Rose was saying, “No. No not like that. You're doing it sideways - just cause you've used this orientation of your hand doesn't mean that you change the direction of your hand’s movement.”

James nodded his understanding and tried again. “Accio book.”

The book moved. Not that much, by only a few centimetres or so, but it had actually risen a bit off the desk before it flopped back down. James' face lit up in delight, which was a good sign for the eventual success of his goal to master the spell. It was also a good sign of James’s character; even though he tried to hide it under his too-cool-for-school attitude, underneath it all he was a big optimist. Scowling because it didn't work how he wanted it to simply wasn't in his nature. No, he was happy that he’d done anything at all.

“Now you do it again.” James moved to comply but he hadn't been looking at Rose. She stopped him, “not you, her. If you don't mind?”

The Slytherin girl nodded. “Accio paper.”

Rose said, “Look at the end of the wand, at the very end of when she performs the spell. You're not getting nervous that we're scrutinising you so much?” Rose asked the girl.

The girl cocked up one eyebrow and let a bit of her inner Slytherin out. “Merlin himself could be standing over me and I’d still do the spell the same.”

Rose nodded back, acknowledging the girl's confidence. And true to her word, she performed the spell as competently as she had done it before and Rose’s apple sailed into her hands. “Did you see it James?”

“I think so. That sort of flick at the end?”

“Yes exactly. That's her catching the apple, not physically yet, but in the spell. You know how when you caught the apple, it hit your palm and you flicked your fingers closed around it, keeping the apple caught. You know what I mean?” James was nodding. “So that's it James, that's how you have to think about this spell. You're not trying to move the book, you’re trying to catch it after it’s flown over to you. You see you’re not trying to get it to move - momentum is quite happy to keep it there - no, what you're doing is giving it no choice. You know it's going to move, all you are doing is deciding the best way to catch it when it comes.”

“Now, try again.”

James nodded and held out his wand he practiced the hand movement a couple more times, then, with a look of concentration, he said, “Accio book.”

The book flew into his hands. 

He beamed.

“Now you, Fred.” Rose looked up at her older cousin and found she was the focus of attention of more students than she thought, but she didn't quail under their scrutiny; her bravery wouldn't let her. She did blush a bit, but soldiered on. “Fred, you try, but like you caught the apple, hold your wand out with your palm down.” Fred did so and after a few goes he was summoning things with ease.

Rose addressed James again, and she was aware that she was also talking to a far larger number of other kids too. “That's it James. Spells are just an an extension and … what's the word?” Rose was moving her hands apart trying to find the word. “Um I can't think of the word at the moment, but making it better, on top of the physical world … Augmenting! That's it! Spells extend and augment what we do or want to do in the physical world.” 

“It's like you getting that book. You could have just gotten up and gone over,” Rose interrupted herself, “no, um.” She looked up, thinking. “Got it! It's like you asking someone to throw you the book. Exactly like that: you're over there and the book is over here and the next thing it's flying to you and you catch it. The only difference is one is because of a spell and the other is because of friendship. One is powered by magic and the other,” she had to laugh, “the other is powered by a thank you.” Her audience chuckled.

“So these spells, charms,” she corrected herself, “transfiguration is a bit different. Charms are so wrapped up in the way we think of and interact with the world. I bet that she,” indicating the girl next to James, “could do the charm no matter if her hand was upside down or sideways. So should you be able to James, but you might never - that's just the way it is with charms.” 

“Thanks Rosie.” James beamed at her, not in a sarcastic way from the last comment, but genuinely thanking her for the help. And around them Rose could see half the common room catching things and trying out the accio.

James turned his grinning face to his companion. She was smiling, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. “Good work,” she said, “but I guess you won't be needing me to teach you charms anymore, will you?” 

James's face fell so quickly it was almost comical. He looked around desperately at Rose who was now struggling not to laugh. Rose guessed that James not only wanted the Slytherin girl to teach him charms he also wanted her … Rose nearly did laugh out loud at her thoughts, but she supposed that he wanted the girl for all her charms, and not just those of the spell variety. 

Rose took pity on him. “No I can't help you. I don't know your syllabus like you do and I don't have the time anyway. I think you've got a good enough teacher; your accio was textbook perfect.” 

The girl acknowledged Rose’s compliment with a pair of raised eyebrows and turned to James who was back to his grinning self. “Guess you're stuck with me. But you still haven't told me what you want in return?”

“That's easy,” the girl replied, “Next year, when we get to go to Hogsmeade on the weekends, I want to be your first date to Hogsmeade. I don't care if we’re girlfriend and boyfriend or if we're not, but I get to be your first date.” She finished speaking because she saw James’s face: it was frozen in shock staring at the girl with his mouth open. She had to say, sounding mortified, “if it's too horrible for you then …”

But James snapped his mouth shut and quickly headed her off. “No, it's not that. I just can't believe you asked me because you see,” then he remembered where he was and leaned in to whisper in her ear. Whatever it was he said c aused her to throw her head back and laugh.

Her laughter was like music. 

It brought the entire common room to a halt. Everyone stopped whatever it was they were doing and looked around to find out where that beautiful sound was coming from. The notes of her laughter lingered on in the room long after they stopped in reality.

James was looking at her in awe, but she didn't notice any of it. She looked back at him. “Yes that will do nicely.”

As conversation returned to the common room, Rose had a sudden thought. “Hey James, why are you trying to learn summoning charms anyway? Aren't they a 3rd or 4th year spell.”

“Yeah, but I need them for…” He stopped and a sly expression came over his face. “I just need them, that's all I'll say.”

Rose chuckled. “Is it another one of James's ask-me-no-questions-I'll-tell-you-no-lies?”

He nodded yes, then the same thought occurred to him. “How do you know them then, Rosie?”

“James.” she scoffed, “I've been doing the summoning charm since I was nine.”

James looked impressed, but the Slytherin girl said, somewhat archly. “I guess it helps if your mum's the head of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Rose looked coldly back at the girl. “If you think that, then you obviously don't know my mum.” 

James laughed, “She's right.” He was shaking his head as he addressed the girl beside him. “You don't know Rose’s Mum. She's tougher on us kids then she is on anyone else. Hey Fred! Remember when she caught you flying your broom down the lane by the Burrow?” 

“Do I ever. I couldn't sit down for days.”

The girl looked at Fred horrified. “She beat you that hard?”

The cousins all laughed.

“Oh no, it wasn't anything like that. It wasn't because I was in pain. No, it was because I literally couldn't sit down. I couldn't bend at the waist.”

James chimed in, “Yeah, I wish I knew that spell, because it was an awesome jinx. But she did it nonverbally, so we never even heard what it was.”

The girl was not horrified anymore, but she was frowning. She asked hesitantly, “How did you, you know, go to the loo?”

Fred’s normally jovial expression fell from his face. “I don't talk about that,” he said without any trace of humour and promptly left the room.

James was stifling his laughter and the girl turned an up-raised eyebrow at him. “Don't ask, you don't want to know.”

James turned his attention back to Rose, as he caught back up with the previous track of the conversation. “If your mum had of found out…” he shook his head at Rose. “Way to go Rosie. I didn't know you had it in you to do something like that right under her nose. I'm impressed.”

“The trick, James - which you obviously haven't learnt - is not to get caught.”

She smiled at him serenely. James just laughed at her. But she could tell he was far more impressed with her breaking the rules under her mother's nose than he was with her proficiency at summoning charms. Rose let him laugh and addressed the girl beside him. 

“The thing is, I know the law - what the law banning the use of underage wizardry says - and I also know how it's enforced. Because of that, I know exactly the way around it.” She said looking dead on and coolly at the Slytherin girl.

The girl just cooked her eyebrow at Rose and said, “are you sure you don't belong in Slytherin?”

Rose’s reaction caused James to start laughing again. “Calm down Rose. She didn't mean to rattle your little Griffy booties.” He paused, looking at her appreciatively. “First the charms, then how you know your way around the law and doing such advanced magic at a young age: you just might be the smartest witch of your generation Rose.”

He’d been looking at her, but then he looked down at the table and his jovial mask slipped a bit and he added, half seriously, “Guess one of us just might get out from under our parent’s shadows after all.”

The statement floored Rose and, weirdly, she could see that the Slytherin girl was taken aback too. She obviously understood the full import behind James's words and his expression, too. She had to hide the pity in her eyes, but she wasn't quick enough to mask it fully from Rose.

Rose couldn't stay there a minute longer. She had to get out of there. Making some excuses, she almost ran from the common room. She ran up the stairs, ran to her bed, pulled the hangings violently open, jumped onto her bed and pulled them closed again. She cast the silencio on them and threw herself down on top of the covers. But after all that furious action she just sat there, not even bothering to turn down the blankets and get in, hugging her knees to her chest and going over in her mind what James had said. What emotional turmoil his words had unleashed within her.

James had said it half-jokingly, but the thing about that was that when you said something half-jokingly, only half of it was a joke. The other half was usually meant deadly serious. And James’ mask had slipped for just a moment. That usual happy-go-lucky, devilish prankster; the boy who, though only in second year, strode the halls of Hogwarts like he owned them; that James Potter the Second had slipped away for a moment and Rose had seen the boy underneath. The one who obviously dreaded that, no matter who he became or what he did, he would never be more than the son of his famous father.

And Rose realised what it was that had been niggling at the back of her consciousness. Would she never be more than the daughter of Hermione Granger? Or the daughter of two out of the three of the Golden Trio? 

Thinking of the ‘Golden Trio’ caused her to snort mirthlessly. She'd never heard the term before she came to school. Her parents had protected her from most of it when she had been younger, but they’d had to eventually explain a lot of the facts to her. But the label of ‘Golden Trio’ hadn’t been one of those. Rose had a sudden mental picture of her dad pottering around the kitchen on the weekends in his undies and an old t-shirt. She actually did laugh out loud at this ‘golden third’.

But her mother … that caused Rose to think twice. Her mum was golden: she was beautiful, graceful, powerful at magic and had a great career. Oh her dad was golden too, especially in his little girl’s eyes. And as she thought about it, she knew that he might not shine as brightly on the outside as either her mum or her uncle, but underneath it all he was pure gold.

For all her familiarity with them, and the ‘contempt’ it engendered, they were fairly amazing people, and the stuff they’d done …

So perhaps the ‘Golden Pair’ would hang over her head the way James’s ‘Golden One’ obviously hung over his. He had the big one, sure, the Chosen One was his dad, but did having two of the trio as parents counterbalance that?

And James was haunted by it. Rose could see it in his eyes for that split second that he'd let his guard down. Sure, she didn't feel that way … yet. She analysed her feelings for a moment: nope, she didn't, not at all. But was that to come? Was it only a matter of time until she did? Until she knew that the only way she’d ever be thought of was as Hermione's daughter?

She'd grown up on her father's stories of Hogwarts. They had been her best and favourite bedtime stories and her father had told them well and often. So much stuff had happened to them. So much even in their first year: the three headed dog; the giant chess game; Quirrell in the forest; the rescue of Norbert now Norberta. When Hagrid had told them all about it that first afternoon with him, Rose hadn't known the story, but as it progressed she came to realise that it was the same one that her dad had told her as a little girl - minus all of the fairytale embellishments that he'd added.

All those things that they had done, all those adventures. 

And that’s what had gotten to her during the holidays. At the same point as she was now, Rose’s mother had already been menaced by a Troll, saved by her future husband and rescued a baby dragon. It's what had niggled at her mind when she was analysing her feelings towards Albus: he was already having his own adventures, notoriety for his own efforts and not because he was the son of his famous father: being sorted into every house, his own quidditch league, being an actual Smith.

Where were her adventures?

She’d had none, not one. Not even a single …

She stopped mid thought, her mind almost exploding from a sudden realisation. She'd had an epiphany. 

She hadn't had any adventures and that made all the difference.

This required some thought. She analysed her feelings again. For one not inclined towards introspection, she found herself having to do it far more often than she would have liked. Like you would have thought she would, she approached it analytically and logically. She stripped apart her feelings and examined them and came to the same conclusion she’d had the brainwave about earlier - she wouldn't change her mind over time. The thoughts of being only known by her parents wouldn't fester inside her. 

She pulled up her covers, stripped off her clothes and tucked herself into bed, falling almost instantly asleep.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

She was correct in one aspect, she would never again care about being known for being her parent’s daughter. It never bothered her if upon being introduced to someone, they knew her as the daughter of Hermione Granger or if she was known for one of her own accomplishments. She met with either sanguinely and proudly.

But she was wrong on one account. Very wrong.

It was very wrong of her to think that she’d had no Adventures. Sure, they hadn't been of the life and death variety that her parents had been involved in, but they'd been Adventures - with a capital A - nonetheless. 

How many students were to meet lifelong friends on their first day at school? Some, but not many.

For that matter, how many humans became lifelong friends with a goblin?

How many students, on their second day at Hogwarts, had personally been responsible for freeing three House-elves? Not many other students had even freed one in their entire school life. She'd even freed another elf after a 'random monster encounter', to borrow a RPG term

She’d gotten on the house team for quidditch in her first year, an accomplishment that she only knew had been done twice before her: once by James, and once by his dad. Yes, more people would in the years to come, and Albus and Scorpius had straight after her, but that didn't diminish her own accomplishment.

There was also the small matter of her seat.

And let us not forget that she was the first person ever to be sorted without having to put the hat on her head.

So she was wrong to think that she hadn't had any adventures, and she was wrong to think that they were over, too.

Although the end of the term was fast approaching, there were still a few more adventures to come.

The first was sad, but not wholly unexpected.

The second one was glorious and hoped for.

And the last … the last she shared with someone else, but it was sad and awful and Rose didn't see it coming at all.

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**  
Authors Note: My wonderful beta - Anja, she of the merlins_beard - knowing what a full month she had ahead, finished off this chapter early, so I can pass it on to you all somewhat early too.**

**These chapters have all been about Rose's feelings, and how she's had that existential angst. I felt that I needed to address how some of these kids deal with having such famous parents. They will all do so in different ways. Albus will quietly take it on board, as is his way. James will barge through it, on the surface, but underneath we can see that it does get to him (as we all saw here). And Rose, well this chapter is all about that.**

**But what was her actual epiphany? Well, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait till later on in the story to get exactly what it was. She will tell someone what it is … some time in third year actually. (sorry about the wait).**

**Do you think I handled the subject well? Does it make sense? If you agree or disagree, I would always like to hear, and you can let me know in that little empty box below.  
 ******


	27. The Return of Trevor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroine has a visit from an ‘old friend’
> 
>  
> 
> A prank or not a prank, that is the question: Who pranketh the pranksters?: A welcome nocturnal visitor?: We leave our impressions upon others, whether we know it or not: Rose knows exactly who’s hands she can trust.
> 
>  
> 
> _“Very good Mr. Potter, very good.” McGonagall said as she walked back up to the staff table, sweeping past James and Fred who were astounded at what had just transpired._  
> 

**Note: If I was writing about Jamie’s prank and Roslyn seeing Trevor again, then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**… hey wait a sec, Trevor is mine, all mine, BWHA HA HA !**

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.**

**The Chapter image was painted by myself.  
**

* * *

 

** Chapter 27: The Return of Trevor **

 

The first of Rose’s ‘Adventures’ happened with over a month to go before the exams. But that wasn’t before she’d seen the result of the prank that James had set up and Albus and his mates had stumbled upon.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

James and Fred had learnt from previous experience. They’d set far too short a delay upon their last prank, so this time the delay was set for far, far longer: days rather than hours.

That was no immediate comfort to Albus and his mates. Nothing untoward had happened the afternoon that they'd been warned away from entering the third floor corridor, nor even over the course of the night to manifest itself in the morning. The day after, they had approached James - at a time when they wouldn’t be overheard, naturally. 

James had reassured them. “Don’t worry little bro,” he adopted a mock superior tone, “the prank is quite real and the effects will be known in the fullness of time. My compatriot, Frederick, and I have learnt from our previous endeavours: the time period in which the prank activates, will lead to it being not directly attributable to either of us.”

Albus walked away from his older brother, shaking his head at the nature of his response, to rejoin his mates and let them know that they would see the effects of the prank in the days to come.

This may have reassured the boys, but not Rose, because she knew something Albus didn't.

On the morning the prank was supposed to have gone off, she noticed James’ odd behaviour at breakfast. He had pointedly waited till Albus and his mates had left the hall to move, then he and Fred left the Great Hall themselves. Rose followed the suspiciously acting pair and to her immense surprise found them going through the same corridor that they warned Albus away from. Rose hung back as the two sauntered through the corridor with barely concealed grins. At the end they let out a whoop and high fived each other with glee.

 

This answered one small question for Rose, but in turn posed an even greater one. Firstly it meant that the results of the prank were definitely not going to be harmful if the two pranksters had walked into it with their eyes wide open. But secondly, Rose could not reason for the life of her exactly why they had exposed themselves to it. It had to have been by design, based upon their behaviour, and that fact, more than anything forced Rose to journey through the corridor herself: if those two felt they had to be exposed to the prank, then she knew she’d have to be exposed to it as well.

 

All was answered in a weeks time when every inhabitant of Hogwarts - minus the House-elves and Albus and his mates - woke in the morning to find that they had purple hair.

The purple ranged in hue depending upon the victim’s natural hair colour. For those with black hair originally, they now sported Indigo locks. Brunettes went Violet, the intensity depending upon the shade of what they’d had before. All the way down to the blondes who now had mauve hair. Rose’s own red hair had turned such a beautiful shade of reddish purple that she was tempted to dye it back once the spell had faded. 

McGonagall was waiting for them in the Great Hall, her own hair a picturesque steely-grey/purple, still caught up in her pristine bun. But she was caught off guard when her two favourite culprits walked into the room with purple hair of their own, James had even spiked his up to accentuate it. Fred’s own closely cropped, tight curls, whilst succumbing to the colour change, were wholly resistant to any such physical manipulation.

Her mouth fell open in astonishment when it was Albus and his companions who walked into the hall with their own original hair colour. That's when Rose realised exactly why James had fallen to his own prank.

Albus must have come to the same realisation at the same moment, but his mind worked quickly. “It appears we've been caught red handed Miss, or should I say not-purple-haired.”

“And you are behind it?’

“Apparently so,” Albus said guilelessly.

“Mr. Potter, I have to ask, why purple?”

Rose could see that this caught Albus a little off guard, but it was Scorpius who now stepped up to speak for them both.

“Since we were all involved,” he said, waving a hand to indicate all of their friends who stood behind them with non-purple hair, “Albus thought that we couldn't favour any one particular House - by choosing a colour from amongst their roster. Most of the major colours had already been selected by the Founders, so that left purple as being the only major colour not already employed.”

Scorpius nodded at Albus, who gave him a firm nod back. “That's right Miss, all for House Unity.”

A less keen observer of the Headmistress, would not have seen the slight smile that came to her lips and to the corners of her eyes, but Rose saw it. 

“Well, Mr. Potter, it is detention for you and your friends this Friday evening - and it's the first for most of you I believe - but as to taking points from each of you … by the equal numbers of you from all the different houses, the points relative to each other would not change at all, so I shall not bother. Instead, for your promotion of House Unity and your use of some advanced magic, for being only first years, I'm inclined to give you all twenty points each. Which comes to forty points for each house, if I'm not mistaken. Though, that's not including your twenty points, Mr. Potter. To which House will you be assigning them?”

Albus could not control his features nearly so well as could McGonagall, so it was that his grin had slipped out by the end of him saying, “I think that this whole escapade demonstrates my Slytherin side, don't you, Miss?”

“Very good Mr. Potter, very good.” McGonagall said as she walked back up to the staff table, sweeping past James and Fred who were astounded at what had just transpired.

That's when Rose realised that McGonagall knew perfectly well who had originated the prank, but had just turned the tables on them and had pranked the pranksters. Not only had she not really punished the ‘apparent’ culprits, but on top of that she’d also rewarded Slytherin House extra points for the Gryffindor prank. 

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Weeks after Rose had reluctantly watched her hair return to it’s natural colour, she could be found studying, as per usual. She was just finishing up for the night. , All of the other girl’s lights going off gave her a clue as to the lateness of the hour. She’d lost track of time, as she quite often did, given her need to only sleep for six hours a night. So she got ready for sleep and one of the first things she did, of her nighttime routine, was to cast the silencio charm upon the already drawn curtains. Listening to her notes helped her fall asleep, but she didn't like to do so with her earphones in; making her bed soundproof and letting the Rose Reader talk aloud was the only other option. 

She was just about to stick the Rose Reader into her charms notes when she heard a voice, as if it was right there beside her in her bed. “Miss Weasley, are you decent? Are you up for a visitor?”

Rose instinctively pulled her bed covers up to her chin, letting out a tentative, “yes?”

With a loud crack, Trevor, the boss of the Hogwarts House-elves, suddenly stood before her on the counterpane.

“Oh! Um, hi.”

“Good evening Miss Weasley.” And he bowed his head to her. “Thank you for agreeing to see me. I do apologize for the lateness of the hour.”

“That's OK, I suppose,” and she couldn’t help ask, “but what …”

“You are no doubt wondering why I am here. There are a couple of things I want to tell you, that I have to tell you and ... and as the first is the easiest, but the longest, I shall do away with it now. I am going to be leaving Hogwarts soon.”

“Oh!” Rose said and the elf nodded in acknowledgement of her concern.

“I wanted to tell you personally, Miss Weasley, as it is largely because of you that I am doing so.”

Rose went, “oh,” again.

But Trevor forestalled her anxiety by saying, “Not in a bad way, don't concern yourself on that front.”

Rose relaxed a bit. “Are you sure?” 

“Oh yes, Miss Weasley…”

“Please,” Rose interrupted him, “please just call me Rose.”

Bowing his head again in her direction he said, “thank you … Rose.”

“I,” he paused, looking around, considering his words. He turned his attention back to Rose. “Have you ever heard of the Muggle expression: a square peg in a round hole?”

Rose shook her head. “No, but I can guess at what it means.”

“I am the wrong fit for this place, Rose.”

“You see, I’m trying to lead a revolution, and I fear that I am too militant, because the revolution is ... it is a quiet one,, and slow, so slow. It will take generations to come about. Furthermore, I have the frustration that in some real respects it not only goes against my people's desires, but their very natures too. That is until the changes wrought by your mother take full effect, but as I said, and you probably know, that’s generations away.”

“And you, when we first met, you were unfortunately a victim of my frustration. I couldn't believe it when you turned up in the kitchens on only that second day of school. I didn't know who you were. You were obviously a first year, though, and I'd suddenly had it: another student scrounging food, that, if they only were patient enough, they would get eventually. Preying upon, or so I thought, the indentured natures of the House-elves. I saw red,, and you, I'm afraid, bore the brunt of that anger. Anger that I didn't realise had festered for so long.”

A sly smirk came over his features as he regarded Rose, “though you did come to the Kitchens assured of your positive reception. I am in no doubt that your hubris made you feel your abysmal treatment at my words even more keenly.”

Rose smiled her own mirthless grin in recognition of the truth. Time had served to dull the ache of the events of that morning but she still had to admit that Trevor was right, it might not have hurt her so much if she hadn't been so assured, truly believing that she was going to be welcomed with open arms.

“But then,” Trevor continued, “what you did after, giving hats out to my people, hats that you made at your mother's knee, deliberately made for the purpose of freeing my people. And not just that, you offered them to already freed elves, out of some spirit of sheer generosity on your part. And not once, and this is what got to me, not once did you cast a reproachful glance in my direction.”

Rose's face fell in surprise. Not because she couldn't remember if she did, but because it hadn't really occurred to her to do so. Trevor had been nasty, sure, but it had been from a false premise and once it was over he wasn't nasty again. So she didn't think of it anymore. 

She was startled out of her reminiscence by Trevor exclaiming, “Ah ha! I can see it in your face, it never even crossed your mind, did it.” He shook his head self-reproachfully, “you don't know how that has haunted me, bit back at me. You freed three House-elves that day, three, not many other students or even adult wizards have ever even freed one.”

“I thought later, maybe, just maybe - and it would assuage my guilt in the matter considerably - that you might have done so for the wrong reasons.”

Rose frowned and crinkled up one side of her mouth. “How could freeing House-elves be for anything other than good?”

“Well, remember, this was in the depths of my remorse over my actions and I was clutching at straws that would salve my conscience. But you could have done the right thing, for the wrong reasons. You could have freed the elves to big note yourself to your fellow students: ‘look at me, I'm Saint Rose Weasley a freer of elves.’ A true inheritor of the mantle from your revered mother before you. Or you could have done it to curry favour with us, for favours for you down the track.”

Rose frowned, “but I didn't …”

Trevor interrupted her. “Oh I know you didn't. I have kept a very close eye on you you over the year, Rose, a very close eye indeed.”

Rose unconsciously pulled her bed sheet higher up around her neck again which caused Trevor to add, “in the public areas of the castle, of course.” Rose relaxed one more. 

“And what did I find?” He asked almost rhetorically. “Nothing.”

“Not a thing to suggest that you had any ulterior motive behind your actions other than their face value. You haven't told anyone what you did that day. I don't think that even your best friends have any idea exactly what the events of that day entailed. As for trying to curry favour from us, you haven't approached a single one of the House-elves for so much as a buttered Scone.”

“No, the opposite is true. You came to our assistance with Stephen in front of that idiot, that bigoted Ravenclaw seventh year. You were fair to everyone, even to him - not that he deserved it. But then you added on that there was enough background noise so that Stephen might not have heard the boy clearly - though I know for a fact that it wasn't the case. It allowed Stephen enough wiggle room to make the case that he didn't deliberately mishear. He would have been punished had he done so deliberately, with mischief afore-thought, but your testimony spared him that at the very least.”

“But there's more. That gift you left us at Christmas,”

Rose interrupted, her face lighting up. “You got your hat then?”

“Yes I did, but before I ask about that, it was the nature of the tag you left upon the box that impressed me: ‘Warning contains clothes.’ You don’t know how much it did,’ he was shaking his head, “impress me, that is. You knew our nature better than I had demonstrated. You respected those elves who weren't yet free and didn't want their freedom. It showed a real consideration on your part.”

Rose’s cheeks turned slightly pink as she shrugged.

“But that hat, my hat,” Trevor asked, “why does it hide my ears?”

“Of course it does, I did it deliberately.” 

Trevor’s ears suddenly stuck, straight out, his mouth fell open and his already huge eyes, widened considerably. It was obvious to Rose that he was shocked at having his suspicion confirmed. Rose had to explain. “I knew that you, being the boss, you might have to go out and deal with Muggles. I didn’t know if you had a hat for that purpose, so I thought you'd appreciate a hat that you could use outside of Hogwarts.” 

His expression changed only slightly, with his ears beginning to droop, but it caused Rose some concern as she truly didn’t know what he was thinking. “That's ok, isn't it?”

Truth to be told, Trevor was dumbfounded at her words. When he saw the box of hats he hadn't expected to receive one, not after the way he’d acted towards the girl, but he had underestimated Rose again. She had made him a hat, but when he lifted out the one with the T for Trevor upon it, it had been a bit of a disappointment to find that it had hidden his ears. He was proud of being a free elf, proud of his ears. With them covered up he looked almost human, or at least he could just pass as one, and he didn't want that. He’d thought badly of Rose for thinking that he'd be ashamed of his Elvish nature, but yet again he had underestimated the girl.

He couldn’t look at her as he explained himself to Rose. He finished with, “I thought you’d thought that I was ashamed of my ears, of being an elf, and wanted to hide them.” He turned his head from the contemplation of her drapes and looked at Rose. “I never even considered that you’d done it for a good purpose.” He held up the beanie in one hand and Rose wondered where it was that he’d stashed it till now. He studied it, “You have not just given me a garment, you made for me a tool.” 

He stiffened up where he was standing. “Miss Weasley, Miss Rose Weasley, you humble me.” And he bowed deeply to her.

She blushed red again, she seemed to be doing that a lot this conversation, but when he straightened up, she bowed her own head and shoulders to him in return. Remembering the lesson in hubris that he’d given her, she said, “Maybe we both have taught each other some things.” 

He grinned back at her. “Perhaps we have, but that is why I must leave. Your actions and those of others, like Stephen, have shown me that my methods are not suited to this establishment. No, this is a place of learning, so education must be the byword here not militancy.”

“But surely you don't have to leave? You could stay. Surely you can adapt?” Rose said.

“You are quite correct, Rose. I'm not stupid and I could adapt as you say, but,” he sighed, “I would chafe under it, like I have been doing these past few years; it is not my true nature. And it would be worse this time because I'd know exactly what was causing my discontent. Unlike these last few years, where the discontent has been slowly building and building, till it finally found release in my shameful rant against you.”

“No, I shall move on and be happy to do so. Leaving in my wake elves far more suited to educate the young witches and wizards of Britain about House-elves and our ways.”

“But where will you go?”

Trevor regarded Rose out of the corner of his eye. With one eyebrow raised he said to her. “You are wondering, no doubt, as to what situation I could find myself content with.”

Rose was shamefaced at being caught out by Trevor, but he laughed at her and it brought forth a sly smile from Rose as well.

“You are quite correct, there are few wizarding establishments that I could be happy in. So that is why I'm venturing into the Muggle world. A few years at a university should do me wonders, learning new skills; I've been hearing a lot about computers. And Oxford, from what I've seen, is similar enough to Hogwarts so I should feel right at home.”

“But won't you … ” Rose said concernedly, “you know, lose your magic?”

“Eventually, yes. Your mother has apparently told you much about our true nature. But the loss should be slow, and if I come back into the Wizarding World after five to ten years, I will find myself able to regain my full powers after a while.. Thank you for your concern.”

A heavy silence fell between them. Rose looked at the elf and, from the expression in his large, golden eyes, she could tell that he understood just as did she. There was nothing more to be said..

“Hmm, well that brings me to the second thing that I am here to tell you and it's not as pleasant as the first has been. There is no easy way to say this and it might not be totally unexpected, but I regret having to inform you that Nana is dying.”

“oh.” Rose said in a small voice, her whole face dropping. “oh.” She started to get upset and, as they usually did, tears appeared in her eyes.

“Be alright Rose, be alright. It is a sad thing, yes, but a natural one too. Nana has had a long life, long even for a House-elf, and it is time for her to go.”

Rose still looked upset and there was nothing that Trevor could really do or say, so he just plowed on. “Rose, I actually have a request of you.”

“Yes?” Rose said, wiping a stray tear that had escaped from her eye.

“It is quite alright if you say no, but would you mind terribly to visit with her?”

“Yes!” Rose said emphatically, “Yes of course. I want to see her”

“Good, because she has been asking after you, wanting you to come.”

Rose looked at him quizzically, wondering why he didn’t say that in the first place. “Why didn’t you…”

But before she could say more, Trevor held up a hand forestalling her. “Why?” He shook his head, looking at her fondly. “Well, as one final test of your character, Rose. I wanted to see if you were willing to visit her of your own volition and not because you were ‘forced’ to by a dying elf’s last request. I admit it was more for my own edification than yours, but I am glad to see that once again you have met my expectations.”

Rose paused, a small smile coming to her lips at his compliment. She nodded at him, acknowledging her understanding that he had meant it as a compliment. “Just hold on for a bit and I'll get changed.”

“Don't worry, your usual nighttime attire should suffice. Luckily it's a cold night, so you should have on the socks your grandmother knitted you, your tracksuit bottoms and I can see the sleeves of your ubiquitous jersey.”

This time when Rose pulled her covers up to her neck, it was a bit more than just instinctual and she gave Trevor such a suspicious and defamatory look.

“Oh for Dobby’s sake, Rose, please credit me with enough intelligence and enough resources that I can know what you commonly wear to bed without having to spy on young ladies getting dressed or undressed.”

Rose visibly relaxed and the look of disgust softened into a questioning one.

“In answer to your unspoken question,” Trevor said, “my purview encompasses all of the services that Hogwarts supplies to its borders. One such being the laundry. I spoke to the House-elf who does your dormitory’s laundry, and from her years of experience and the clothes you put out to launder, she told me what you would wear to sleep and that they would be suitable for you to venture out of your dorm at night.”

Rose just looked at him, the expression on her face unreadable, then she pulled down her covers to reveal the tracksuit pants Trevor had predicted. “Ok, let me just de-charm the drapes,” she said as she was pulling her legs out from under the covers, and revealing her grandmother’s knitted socks in the process, “and then we can sneak out.”

“No need for that Rose, we will just apparate from here.”

Rose looked at him in astonishment, “But you can't do that.”

“Why not?” said Trevor, with a cheeky grin starting to bloom on his face.

“Why not, because it's against the rules, that's why.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because I read them before I came.” Rose replied. She loved the rules about anything, so naturally, she’d read the Rules and Ordinances of Hogwarts before she came; just so that she could know what was what. “And the rules and ordinances of Hogwarts,” she said aloud, “prevent apparition by wizard within the bounds of the castle or into it or out of it. And they also prohibit side along apparition by House-elves within the castle, even though the House-elves themselves are allowed to apparate in the performance of their duties.”

“That is true,” Trevor agreed with her, “and the General Rules state so fairly clearly. But in an emergency - not restricted to but including: fire; structural damage to the dormitories such as occasioned by earthquakes or the like; and dark wizard attack - the House-elves of Hogwarts may remove students from a harmful environment lawfully, even from the main dormitories, to a place of safety. As this situation does actually involve someone being at death’s door, I believe the rules give me enough room to maneuver.”

Rose’s mouth hung open.

“You will find a listing of the complete rules and regulations of Hogwarts outlined in,” and Trevor produced from a pocket a small black, leather-bound book, “The General and Extraordinary Rules, Regulations and Ordinances of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; a title you will note was too large to be printed upon the spine or the cover of the book, so they didn't bother.”

Rose looked at the small book with barely concealed lust in her eyes.

“In the way of an apology, for the way I treated you when we first met, I would love to leave you this book, but that would be totally inappropriate. It was deemed unwise to allow the students access to the full rules of the school, lest some of the smarter students, armed with the knowledge of the letter of the laws, should seek to circumvent the intent of the laws.”

“Luckily for me, I cannot fall prey to the temptation of leaving the book to you because I have found, much to my consternation, that I must have lost my copy someplace in the castle during the execution of my duties.” With that, and a cheeky smirk, he threw the book onto the bed beside Rose’s pillow.

Rose answered his grin with one of her own. Not breaking eye contact with Trevor, she pushed the book underneath her pillow. “Of course,” she said, “if I ever found it, I would ensure that it never fell into the wrong hands.”

“And you are not counting your own hands amongst that number?” Trevor asked.

“Naturally not.” Rose replied.

Trevor full on laughed. “Oh, Rose, it has been a pleasure getting to know you, meeting the daughter of Hermione Granger has certainly not been a disappointment.”

“Rose you cannot know how much I owe your mother. It is because of her,” he began to say, but then, before her very eyes, Trevor changed; shrinking in upon himself from standing upright he slouched over. He hunched his shoulders and he began to rub his hands together. Rose was surprised to see that he could even make his ears droop. When he continued talking, it was in a really nasally, sycophantic voice. ”That I'm not like this. Oh what the Miss Weasley, my mistress must think: talking so boldly. Forgive Tre-vor,” he pronounced it abnormally, stressing the last syllable, “oh, he must slam his fingers in the drawer for even speaking so openly in front of her. What would my masters, the mighty wizards think, if they could see me talk so brazenly to one of their charges?” 

He straightened up and returned to his former self with an “Ugh!” 

In his normal voice he said, “I am so grateful to her for sparing me that indignity, and if I have been of the slightest assistance to her daughter, it could never be enough.”

“Now we have more pressing matters to attend to. Would you please accompany me to see Nana?” and he held out his hand to her.

 

The grin at his antics slid off Rose's face, she nodded and took the proffered hand. With a loud crack, that didn't go beyond the silencio cast on the drapes, they were gone.

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**Author’s Note: I am very happy about this chapter, pleased with what I’ve done. We finally see the return of Trevor, a character who was much hated when he first appeared - according to some reviewers, at least.**

**Trevor came out of nowhere. He was a product of requiring a boss of the House-elves who would be rude to Rose. That's it.**

**But, I had to think about him logically. What would he do in the face of his assumptions being proven wrong? Not just that, but in the face of this human, one of his race's en-slavers, ignoring his rudeness and freeing his people in spite of him.**

**Either, he could retreat into further rudeness, reinforcing his earlier mistake with continued, sullen obstinacy. Or, he could look to himself and correct his own bad behaviour. The latter was my choice of preference.**

**My own beta, the wonderful Anja (she of the Merlins_beard), didn’t like him to begin with, but I think I have brought her around with this chapter.**

**Speaking of Anja, she was extremely busy with exams, hence the lack of an update last month, but with this one, I hope to return to a monthly schedule.**

**As always, any and all comments are welcome and wonderful.  
**


	28. Nana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroine visits with a dying House-elf.
> 
> Rose discovers an aspect of slavery; A consequence of slavery is revealed; Rose sees the true horrors of magically imposed slavery for herself.
> 
> _Trevor continued as they walked, “you will see some interesting things tonight. Things that - most likely - no wizard has ever seen before.”_

**Note: If I was writing about Trevor taking Roslyn to see Nana - then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec, Trevor and Nana are mine, all mine BWHA HA HA!**

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

The main banner and all chapter images have been painted by myself.

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** Chapter 28: Nana **

 

Trevor and Rose apparated from her dorm into the kitchens - from one silent, darkened room to another. Only in this room, the silence was of a very different nature. The dorm had been silent due to a lack of noise. The silence in the kitchens, though, was due to a large number of people deliberately trying not to make any noise.

The bright room and the cheery fires of the daytime were gone. Quite a few House-elves were milling around, Rose could see, in the subdued lighting of the room. There was something odd about them and Rose wondered what it was for a moment, until she realised that none of them were working.

“It is a strange time of the day for us,” Trevor said to her, “the elves on the afternoon shift have just tidied up from their day's work and the night shift are about to go out to clean the castle; now that it's inhabitants are largely asleep. It is one of the reasons that I brought you here at this time.”

He began to lead her forward through the room, towards one of the side doors that Rose had seen on her first visit. She’d thought then that they led to pantries, so she didn’t fully understand why they were headed in that direction. As they passed by the other elves, some of them would greet Trevor and, more often than she would have thought, she would be greeted in turn. Here and there Rose could see elves wearing the hats she’d made and she was always greeted by those elves and sometimes most profusely.

“It is not the only reason,” Trevor continued as they walked, “you will see some interesting things tonight. Things that - most likely - no wizard has ever seen before.”

They got to the doorway and Rose could see that the assumptions she’d made were not entirely incorrect. The doorway led into a corridor, but directly to either side, were open doorways, through which Rose could see the pantries and larders she had assumed were there. Beyond them, though, the corridor stretched out before her. In about thirty or forty metres, it hit a t-intersection and went on, Rose knew not where. There were doors down both sides of the corridor and one was standing open halfway down on the left hand side. The one thing that was odd about the corridor was that it wasn't very high; had Rose been slightly taller her hair would have brushed the ceiling. This is where the House-elves must live, thought Rose, down here, off the kitchens.

The loose congregation of elves that Rose had passed in the main room outside, coalesced into some sort of order in the corridor. They had formed a line that went down the corridor to that open door. Every now and then an elf would exit the door and then another would enter shortly after.

Trevor started to lead her down the corridor, but Rose held back. She answered Trevor’s puzzled look by saying, “there's a line. We shouldn't push in, we should wait our turn.”

Trevor smiled a bright smile at her and said, “Your manners do you credit. But, for one, I was instructed to bring you to Nana as soon as we arrived, and for another, the still enslaved House-elves,” he swept an arm behind him to encompass the line in front of Rose, “would no sooner wait in line in front of a witch, than they would … refuse to work for their masters. Ha, I said would refuse, but by the strictures of their enslavement, they could not refuse.”

In silence, Rose was led to the doorway and told to stop there by Trevor. He looked into the room and must have received some kind of confirmation, because he motioned her forward; as soon as an elf left the room.

The room inside was homely and contained little except a wardrobe, a dressing table and chair, and a fair amount of elves gathered around the tiny figure inhabiting the lone bed. They all looked up as Trevor cleared his throat. “Nana I have brought Rose Weasley, as you requested.”

A thin voice, yet still quite clear, came from the bed. “Bring her here.”

The elves at the bedside shuffled apart and Rose was led to Nana. She looked a lot older than when Rose had seen her before, and she had looked really old then. She weakly raised a hand for Rose to take. The elf had her eyes closed and she looked so close to death when Rose got there that she thought it would be only a matter of minutes before Nana passed. Rose moved to the bedside and wanted to take Nana’s hand that was hovering above the covers. Rose was too tall in the elf-sized room to do so comfortably, so she sat down beside the bed. 

Once Rose had taken the frail hand in her own, Nana's eyes flew open, as bright and as lively as they ever were. And when she began to talk, it was in a voice that belied her infirm looking state, as it was far stronger than Rose would have expected.

“Oh, Miss Rose Weasley, thank you so much for coming. Nana is so pleased you agreed to be here.” She caught Rose’s look of surprise. “Why are you surprised, did you not think that Nana would wish to see - one last time - the one who set her free?” 

Rose shook her head. “No, it’s not that, it’s,” she paused, trying to think of a polite way to phrase what had surprised her. She really did try, but her words came out far blunter than they should have. “It’s just that you don’t sound nearly as feeble as you look, and your eyes, too. I expected you to be all...” She mimed an old person with the shakes and her eyes half-lidded, “but instead you are all bright eyed. Are you sure …” But her good sense finally caught up with her mouth and she could not finish what she was about to ask.

It was patently obvious what she was going to say and Nana finished the sentence for her. “Nana is sure she is about to die,” she grinned good-naturedly at Rose’s flush of embarrassment. “Nana has no doubt of it Miss Rose. It is a part of our servitude: on the day that a House-elf is to die we cannot get out of bed. My legs are too weak to do much at all.”

Rose saw her concentrate and followed the line of her gaze down to the elf's legs, hidden by the covers, where there was a feeble flutter of movement, but that was it and the elf relaxed back onto her pillows. Looking at the foot of the bed drew her attention to something that she had missed earlier. On the counterpane, at the end of the bed was an odd assortment of small items in neat piles. Quite a few socks, most of which were odd, and a smaller pile of mittens and gloves. A couple of belts next to a pile of scarves and an assortment of other little things: a pencil or two and an eraser, a pen knife for sharpening quills, a small purse, and the strangest one was probably a scrap of parchment with a mobile phone number on it. There were another, about ten or so, sundry other objects in the pile and their common factor was that they were small, easily pocketed items.

Rose was broken out of the contemplation of the piles of objects when Nana continued talking. “But Nana can still use her arms.” She waved them about, feebly yes, but still, they were hers to control. “And my voice is still strong. That is so that Nana can finish any outstanding business: impart instructions to my successors and other such things. It is part of the House-elf’s nature and not a bad part too: we know when we are about to die and have the grace and the time to say all we need to say.”

Somebody cleared their throat behind them and Rose looked around to see an older elf, though not nearly as old as Nana, who said, “There are still a couple who have to go on to do their nightly duties. Can they be seen please, so that they may go?”

“Nana's so sorry. Let them come in.”

The older elf turned her head over her shoulder and nodded, obviously to the two elves who now entered the door. They curtseyed to Nana and one of the pair came forward. She held out something small and fuzzy and it was only when Nana took it that Rose realised it was another mitten.

“Oh how beautiful and soft it is, Gabby.”

The young elf looked pleased at the use of her name and volunteered, “It's finest Cashmere. That's what Poppy over in laundry says.”

Nana smiled “I'm honoured, it it truly is a precious thing. Would you mind …” She held out the mitten and Gabby understood. Taking the mitten from Nana’s outstretched hand, she gave her a kiss on her forehead, then placed the mitten upon the pile at the end of the bed. Rose couldn't help but notice that Gabby gave the mitten one last pat of fondness before she left it and went to stand behind the other elf she’d come in with.

The scene repeated itself with the other elf. The only real differences being, that this elf’s name was Barbara and she had a sock in Slytherin colours which she presented to Nana. The pair curtseyed once more and left the room.

Trevor came forward. “I must go too, I’m afraid, there are duties I have to attend to.” He approached the bed and took Nana’s hand. “Speaking of Duties, have you decided?”

Nana nodded her head. “Posy”

And the older elf who had spoken before stepped forward.

“Nana thinks it should be you. Does Posy think she can field the duties and requirements of the position?”

“Yes Nana, Posy can.”

“Good. Then you shall be the new Nana when I have gone.”

Trevor nodded at Nana then bowed to Posy who curtsied back.

“I do really have to go, goodbye Nana.”

She reached up with her free hand and cupped his cheek. “Nana knows you are a good boy. You be careful when you go out into the Muggle world.”

“I will, Nana.”

“Nana knows Trevor will …” but Nana broke off what she was saying, scrunching up her eyes in concentration and resolve and said - half to herself, “no Nana can do this,” and then her eyes flipped open and she looked up into Trevor's own. “ ** _I_** ,” she stressed, “am proud of you and … **_I_** couldn't be prouder of you, my grandson.”

A single tear escaped his eyes as he took her hand in his own and kissed the back of it. “Thank you, grandmother.”

He straightened up. “There is someone who wishes to see you,” he looked at Rose, “both of you.” He turned and nodded to someone outside the doorway. 

A head tentatively appeared and Rose knew who it was before she even saw her features - the Gryffindor hat upon her head gave it away. She looked apprehensive at first, but when she saw Rose’s welcoming smile, she rushed in and up to Rose. Both had their arms outstretched and as Blinky rushed around to Rose, Rose shuffled around on her knees and they met in a massive hug.

Rose didn’t notice the reactions of the other elves in the room, caught up as she was with Blinky. The older female elves, all of whom were as yet unfreed were slightly scandalised by the familiarity that the young elf should presume so much intimacy with one of the masters. Nana looked over at it fondly, remembering times past and wishing it had been possible to do such when she had been the age of the young elf. It was Trevor, however, who saw it for what it truly was: it was the friendly greeting of two beings who thought, in their hearts, that they were equals. On top of the already high emotional content of the day, it almost choked a sob from him.

When she pulled away from Rose’s embrace and addressed Nana, Blinky was frowning again. “Blinky has nothing for you Nana, and I can't make anything yet either.” She had tears in her eyes and it wouldn't have been Blinky if she hadn't added, “oh no, no, no, I can't.”

“I suppose I should alleviate your confusion, Rose.”

Rose looked up to Trevor. She had not known exactly what was going on and it must have shown on her face. She was a little taken aback by the rough emotion she could hear in his voice, though she shouldn’t have been so surprised; it was his grandmother that lay dying upon the bed.

“When a House-elf dies, those closest to them give them one of those little items that elves are ever wont to collect. Little things that are lost or misplaced,” he held up his index finger, “but never stolen - that somehow find their way into our possessions. We give them to the dying elf so they might have something of their own when they go on to serve in the afterlife.”

“A slightly newer version of this practice has arisen with the freed elves - they give the dying something that they have made with their own hands. Perhaps Blinky can explain more,” he looked at his watch, “because I really have to go.” 

He nodded at Rose. “Miss Weasley.” Then at Nana. “Goodbye, Grandmother.” His voice caught as he said ‘Grandmother’, but before his emotions could betray him further, he turned on his heel and was gone.

In consternation, Blinky said, “but I don't know anything. I haven't been here that long and I don't know how to make anything.”

Rose took pity on a small elf. “How about I swap you. Trevor told me to ask you to tell me about all of this - what's going on. If you tell me, I'll teach you how to make something. How does that sound?”

Blinky could hardly talk, she nodded so furiously and gripped one of Rose’s hands in her own. “Oh yes, yes, yes. Yes please, Miss, I mean, Rose.”

“But we’ll need some stuff: some cardboard, a pair of scissors and some wool.” Rose hadn't really thought about where she was, she’d said the list thinking that she and Blinky would go and get the items. But as she was surrounded by House-elves, almost before she’d stopped speaking, the items were in her hands. “Thank you all so much, I don’t know what to say.”

She addressed Blinky again. “Today I'm going to show you how to make a pom-pom Blinky. First you have to cut the cardboard in a circle about this big.” 

Rose was interrupted from her instructions by a “Miss Rose.”

Rose had turned herself around when Blinky had come in so she left Blinky cutting out the cardboard and had to turn around to look at Nana. 

Nana was smiling fondly at her. “Nana has to thank you Rose Weasley, yes she does.” 

Rose blushed, “it's not much, but…”

Nana interrupted her. “No Rose Weasley not for that. You helping Blinky is just your general kindness. No, Nana wants to thank you for what you did for Trevor. You have freed him as surely as if you gave him clothes yourself.” Rose really blushed this time but she was still confused and Nana could see it. “After your mother lifted the ensorcellment that had lain upon us, Trevor was the first, Rose, the very first elf to go to the Headmistress and ask for clothes. His natural abilities have propelled him through the ranks into the position he now holds, But he has yearned to do more, Nana knows it, and you have helped him, Rose Weasley. You set him free to pursue his own path.”

The two of them were looking at each other and Rose didn’t know what to say. The moment was eventually broken by that older elf, _‘Miranda, was it?’_ Rose couldn’t recall.

 

“Nana, if you please, there are more elves wishing to pay you respect.”

Rose turned back to Blinky as the first of the rest of the elves came in - this one a boy elf bearing a blue plastic brooch in the shape of a bird - and it was to find Blinky having already cut out both circles of cardboard.

“Good, well done. Now we have to cut out a centre hole and a slot in from one side. While we do that, what was this thing about being a Nana? I thought all grandmother's could be called Nana, that's certainly what we call my Dad's mum.”

So they sat there making pom-poms as a line of elves came in and presented Nana with small gifts, and Blinky told her about the culture of the House-elves. Rose, in her ignorance, succumbing to the almost omnipresent, casual racism that can afflict even the best of us, didn't even think that they had a separate culture away from wizards. As Blinky talked on, Rose was struck by exactly what it meant to be a Slave. Rose’s mother had impressed the evils of it upon her from an early age, but that had been purely academic. The few House-elves that she had met, apart from Kreacher, had all been free elves on some sort of mission to see her mother; about a point of law or something. Kreacher was an exception. He didn’t want to be freed, still partially under the conditioning of Sirius’ mother, as he was. He was now so old and a bit cranky too: it was no wonder with the likes of James and what he’d gotten up to as a young kid. Kreacher didn't work by order of Uncle Harry, because the strength of his magic was fading and it was genuinely wearying for him to perform even some of the simplest of household magics. More than half the time he was asked to do anything by the kids, all he did was grumble and do nothing. 

But in outlining the culture of the House-elves for Rose, Blinky was cataloging some of the evils of slavery. Rose was horrified at what it meant to have a culture that by needs must be hidden lest their owners take even that away from them.

The culture was kept in secret. Overtly it was patriarchal, but their true culture was matriarchal in nature. By hiding their leaders as being a completely different sex, should there be any kind of culling of their leadership - as the wizards saw it - then the true leadership would be unaffected underneath. All the House-elves of the island of Britain had one overarching leader, The Nana. Ireland had a Nana of their own. Even the title was hidden within the name. Nana seemed like a perfectly acceptable, ordinary name for a house elf. Who would expect it to also be a title?

That's why Nana had spoken of all the House-elves as her children. Most of them were only her honorary children. Rose had wondered how fertile Nana had been, but of course she herself had only had a few children. The birth rate of House-elves was quite low, and why wouldn't it be, when your babies are usually taken from you and placed in different households?

“I didn't know my mum or dad,” Blinky said, “I was taken from them as a baby and the dark wizards tried to raise me under the old ways.” 

And that was Blinky, Rose thought, and the sadness of it prickled her eyes with tears. It wasn't just what she was saying, it was the manner in which she was saying it, that made it so much worse: just matter of factly, not railing against it, not hating wizards for it, just like ‘it happens and there was nothing that you or anyone could do about it.’ 

It really got to Rose just how bad the enslavement of the House-elves at the hands of wizards was. Not just satisfied with their utter compliance, the Wizards had made them happy and accepting of their slavery. 

She had to say something, so she asked, “Can't you find out? Now you're away from where you were, now that you're at Hogwarts and you're free, can’t you find your mum?”

“Nah,” said the little elf not looking at Rose, still steadfastly concentrating on the task of winding wool onto her pom-pom blank, “not really possible is it. What they did was mix a lot of us babies up so that no one knew who was who. So none of us elves know, oh no no no. And for good measure, the dark wizards ordered the Mothers never to try and find out where their kids went. So it would be a kindness for my mother not to try and find me, otherwise she’d have to hurt herself, oh yes yes yes.”

The unfairness of it all came crashing down upon Rose. Tears weren't merely pricking at her eyes anymore, they were running down her cheeks. A sound or something made her look around. All the other elves in the room were looking at her. One of the younger ones who’d just come in with a gift for Nana was looking at her in wide-eyed astonishment, but the rest … oh how they looked at her. Their masks of servile domestication had slipped for once and she could feel generations of House-elves looking out of their eyes and boring into her own. She wanted to shout, _‘but not me. I didn't enslave you. I've freed House-elves.’_ But it was as nothing, as a breath of air in a hurricane; snuffed out by the silent, sullen, oppressive stares of the older House-elves.

Rose must have let out an audible sob because Blinky suddenly said, “Rose, what is the matter?” She felt Blinky’s arms around her shoulders giving her a pat. “Surely my pom-pom isn't that bad?”

Rose started to cry in earnest and buried her head into Blinky’s shoulder. She sobbed, hiding her face behind the elf’s head, not wanting to catch the gaze of the other House-elves again. For someone who was so quick to tears, Rose was an ugly cryer. Her face became blotchy creating an ugly counterpoint to her freckles. And she went all snotty, having to sniff back the snot that was threatening to eject itself from her nose.

Quite a few pats and hugs from Blinky later, Rose took herself from blinky’s embrace.

“Why were you crying, Rose?” Blinky said, holding her at arm’s length. Rose looked into the little elf’s eyes and realised that the little innocent in front of her truly had no idea. In a rare display of tact on Rose’s part (something she was not terribly proficient at normally), she realised that she couldn't spell it out for Blinky and so dispel her innocence. Rose didn’t want to lay any more misery upon the poor creature, by pointing out some of the ramifications Blinky had missed. Especially not on today of all days when they were at the bedside of a dying elf. So Rose mumbled something deliberately incoherent and changed the subject.

“Thanks Blinky, but we’d better get on with our pom poms, we’re nearly finished.”

So they sat there and finished the pom-poms together and in the end Blinky had made quite a serviceable one. She proudly handed it over to Nana, but when Blinky went to put it at the end of the bed, Nana had her put it right at the front; in the pride of place.

Rose sat there with Blinky watching the rest of the elves come in with their gifts. If Rose found Blinky’s hand creeping into her own, she wasn't going to throw it off, or mention it either.

The same sorts of bits and pieces as before were presented to Nana until an older elf came in and produced a wand, to the gasps of astonishment of all present. A younger elf, who was in the process of leaving the room blurted out, “How does you have a wand?”

She immediately explained herself. “It was lost. Oh, how we had to search for it: the girl did, and her housemates did, and we House-elves were called in too, but to no avail. It was lost beyond finding. The girl bought a new one and used it for the rest of her time at school and the old one was forgot. Then, after her seventh year, when we rearranged the room for the next year to occupy, there it was, stuck down behind her bed in a way that no one of us could have found it. I was young and the thrill of keeping something so forbidden was too tempting. I'm older now and I don't need it anymore, but I love the idea of the first free Nana taking a wand with her when she goes on.”

“Nana thanks you, Deirdre. Nana has kept an eye on you. You are too young for consideration at this time, but know this, Nana thinks that you could well be a potential Nana in the future. This, giving Nana the wand and casting away the things of your childhood, is a mature step towards that path.”

The line of elves went on, thankfully for not much longer, as Rose could hear tiredness creeping into Nana's voice and saw that her strength was flagging. Finally, the last elf was shown in, and it was Stephen who bounced into the room.

“Nana wondered when you would show up.” She said in a far different manner than she’d greeted any of the other elves; it was somewhat testily, to Rose’s surprise.

If it affected Stephen in anyway he didn’t show it “Betta L8 than neva, that's my motto.”

“So what do you have for Nana?” She demanded, still treating Stephen quite unlike any of the elves that had come before.

“Don't have much of ‘uman stuff. Why weigh yourself down with their crap?”

“Language!” Nana scolded him.

“Sorry.” Said Stephen, not at all contritely. “I also don't have the knack of making nothing yet, so I can't give you that neither. All I have of my own to give to you is this,” and Stephen reached up and grabbed his hat from the top of his head.

Nana looked at Stephen reproachfully. “You know I can't accept that. How will the Wizards know that you are the S-for-Stephen, Slytherin elf?”

“l guess I'll just have to keep it then.” He said, replacing the hat upon his head. “Just wish I had something else I could give you …” He looked pointedly over towards Rose.

Rose barely stifled a laugh as she saw where he was looking. She put on a theatrical voice. “Oh,dear. When I was leaving I must have accidentally left behind my pom-pom.” She lobbed the woollen ball Stephen’s way and gave him a massive, over-the-top wink.

Catching it, he turned to Nana, punctuating his words with dramatic gestures. “Seems luck is my way. I shall not bore you with the ‘mazing adventure that I had in gettin’ this out from under the very noses of the mighty wizards, but here is a pom-pom for you.”

No one could keep a smile off their faces at his antics, Nana least of all. She smiled at Stephen, shaking her head at him and took the pom-pom in her hands. Rose noted that she didn’t let it go and kept stroking it fondly. “You cheeky baggage. If Nana didn't know different, Nana would have sworn you planned this all along. You are …”

But her words died on her lips as something over Stephen’s shoulder had commanded her attention. So fixated was her gaze, that everyone else looked too. But there was nothing there. Their attention all flicked to Nana when, still concentrating upon the same spot, she whispered out, “Of course.” A beatific smile suffused her features as she began to lie back down. Barely audibly she said, “Goodbye, my children.” Nana's head came to rest upon her pillows and she died.

In increasing consternation, Stephen said, “Nana. Nana? Great grandmother?” but there was no reply and Rose saw the tears finally falling from his eyes at the knowledge of her passing.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

There was a little epilogue to this adventure, but Rose wasn't present, physically, to witness it.

On his last day at Hogwarts, Trevor, after he had busied himself discharging all of his duties, returned to his room for one final time to collect the last of his luggage. As soon as he entered the room he couldn't help but notice a package resting upon his bed next to his packed suitcase. It was light in his hands as he picked it up and there was a piece of parchment caught within the string that bound it together; folded over to form a makeshift card. On the front, was a drawing of a stylized rose. Trevor immediately recognised it as being copied from the designs on a Rose Reader. He extricated it from its string bindings and flipped it open. Inside it read:-  
Warning: contains clothes.  
Wear it with pride.  
Love Rose Weasley (trainee witch)   
and Blinky (free elf) 

Pushing the string to one side, he opened up the paper like the petals on a budding flower. He was most grateful that no one else was around - he wondered absently if that's the way Rose had planned it - as it would not do for his tough image, if the other House-elves were to see him shed so many tears, so openly. Nestled in the unfolded paper was a beanie, a T worked into the stitches at the front, a pom-pom on the top, and special, cut-out holes for his ears to pop through on the sides.

* * *

**  
Author’s Note: Well, here is the end of the first of Rose’s three adventures - the House-elf one. She was awarded a Quest Prize (the book of the complete ordinances of Hogwarts) and got a chance to witness an ancient ceremony. It has not the daring do, nor the danger that her mother, her father and her uncle faced at her age, but I believe it is an adventure nevertheless.**

**And here we have as well the completion of the arcs of the stories of both Nana and Trevor. For incidental characters that were originally created for a specific single purpose each, they certainly did take on far greater roles. They were also good foils for some ideas I wished to explore. I hoped you all enjoyed them.**

**Thanks again to Merlinsbeard for her excellent job of betaing this chapter. I find her help especially useful when I have made assumptions or logical leaps that I have not fully explained. So to her and you all, Happy New Year.**


	29. The Quidditch Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroine plays in her last and most controversial quidditch game of the year.
> 
> Captain Wood has a particular position proposition for Rose: The immediate consequences of trying something new are seen: The end consequences of trying something new are also seen.
> 
> _Olivia started to look excited, “but not her, not no one, has worked out all of it. I've kept it secret ‘till now, just in case we need it, and boy we sure do now. No one has realised it yet."_

**Note: If I was writing about Roslyn playing Quidditch under Olivia Wood then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec, Olivia Wood is mine, all mine BWHA HA HA!**

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

The main banner and all chapter images have been painted by myself.

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** Rose’s last Quidditch Match for the Year **

 

The term wore on to its inevitable conclusion. Rose was saddened for a time after Nana's passing, but she had to drag herself out of it as there were only a few weeks to go before her exams. So studying kept her distracted, and there was always Quidditch.

As for the House Cup, Gryffindor had it in the bag. They could go out onto the field for the final game and hand over the snitch to the opposition and it wouldn't much matter, they were ahead by that much. Slytherin had to score more than 600 points to take the cup from them and, to put the icing on the cake, Albus was playing for Gryffindor for this final match. 

It was in the bag.

Not so the Albus Cup, however, that was almost anyone’s. 

Because there had been far more games for it than for the House Cup, the overall points were much closer, so any of the four teams could win at this stage. Only two games were left to play in the season. The penultimate game was between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. It would not only be Rose’s last for the year, but it would also decide the overall winner of the season. 

Due to Olivia's excellent strategy over the course of the House Cup, Gryffindor had effectively taken Ravenclaw out of contention from that first game of the season, but that hadn't been possible in the Albus Cup. All the points tallies for the four houses were much closer. Of last two games of the season, this match, between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, would almost certainly decide the cup. The last one, between Slytherin and Hufflepuff, would probably not; unless Slytherin pulled off a massive win of four hundred points or more.

There were two weeks to go before the game, when Olivia approached Rose before practice one night. “Ok Weasley, you Ok? Good.” She said without any preamble and without giving Rose a chance to reply. “Ok, now I wanted to talk to you about the upcoming game, more importantly, about your role in it.”

“Oh,” Rose’s face fell, “Don't you want me to be the Seeker anymore?”

“What!?” Olivia exclaimed, she’d been half distracted thinking about what she needed to say. When her brain caught up with what Rose had said she quickly reassured Rose. “Of course I do, don't be stupid. Well actually, I do and I don't. I want you to be more.”

Olivia was so wound up, so excited with what she was about to say, that she couldn't stand still and began to pace up and down in front of Rose. “I've been keeping this under wraps for so long that I don't know where to start. The Albus variation on the rules of quidditch, no I mean, on the game of quidditch. Not the rules. The rules are largely unchanged and that's the point, that's what we’re going to exploit.”

“Umm Olivia, you're not making much sense.” Rose pointed out in her confusion.

Olivia, still not paying attention to anything but the thoughts that were going through her mind, had to visibly refocus her gaze upon Rose. “Sorry. Ok, you've seen, haven't you, how the three seekers have affected the game?” Again she didn't give Rose a chance to answer, “It's so much more a Chasers game now. It's propelled their importance way up. In regular quidditch, you have to score one hundred and fifty points from goals before you match the points from the snitch. That's fifteen goals vs one snitch catch. But in this version, you don't have to catch the snitch at all. In fact, because Albus is so good, most times the teams win without having caught the snitch at all.”

“Yes, of course I've seen that.” Rose said finally managing to get a word in edgewise. “It's the reason why it's basically down to us and Ravenclaw to see who gets the Albus Cup, we’ve both got the best squads of chasers.”

“Yep,” Olivia agreed, “that's clear for anyone to see; Jen certainly has.” Olivia started to look excited, “but not her, not no one, has worked out all of it. I've kept it secret ‘till now, just in case we need it, and boy we sure do now. No one has realised yet that in the Albus variation _there are three teams playing_.” 

Olivia sat back, looking like she just imparted the secret to the Philosopher's Stone. 

Rose could only shrug, “I suppose so.”

Olivia was smiling and shaking her head. “No you haven't got it, no one has. Take our game coming up, it's us vs Ravenclaw, so Albus - being the third seeker - will be playing for Hufflepuff, yeah?” Rose nodded. “We’re at the front of the competition so far, but only just. We have to beat Ravenclaw by a reasonable amount. A snitch catch would be great, but,” Olivia shrugged her shoulders, “don't get me wrong, you've been great. You managed to get it twice against Albus, the only other one of you to even get one snitch catch against him was that Malfoy kid, but you have to admit, it was more arse than class?”

Rose was honest enough with herself to nod her agreement.

“So the snitch will probably be going to Albus. That's ok, who cares if the Puffers get the snitch and seventy points, as long as Ravenclaw don't. No, we will have to rely on our chasers, so,” and she got this devilish look on her face, “how would it be if we could have four chasers?”

Rose looked at her like she was crazy, but then Olivia smiled. Raising her hand, she pointed a finger at Rose.

Rose’s mouth dropped open in astonishment, Olivia couldn’t possibly mean her. She said as much to her. “But I can’t”

“Oh yeah you can.” Olivia said, launching into her explanation with all the enthusiasm of a five year old discovering frogspawn for the first time. “Now I know you can't catch the quaffle if you're not one of the proper,” Olivia made air quotes around the word proper, “chasers. Only the positions that are directly involved with each of the different balls may catch their respective balls: chasers and keepers can catch the quaffle; seekers can catch the snitch; and the beaters can catch the bludgers. Yeah true,” Olivia said at Rose’s look of unknowing, “usually they’d be stupid to try and catch a bludger, but they're allowed to.”

“Anyway, you cannot catch the quaffle if you come onto the ground as the seeker. Nor can you carry it for any length of time on your broom or person due to an incident in 1868, when a beater caught the quaffle with his elbows. But anyone can deflect or punch any of the balls that cross their paths or get in their way. Again, you’d be stupid to punch a bludger out of your way, but I’ve seen some of the advanced techniques taught to professional chasers, and they are taught how to deflect them when they can. Did you see that game last year, the one between the Falcons and the Harpies? The one where the bludger was heading straight for O'Riordan and she couldn’t duck, but she managed to nudge it enough with her forearm that it missed her side?”

Rose screwed up her eyes, trying to remember, but couldn’t. She shook her head.

“Never mind, but it happened then. So that's what I want you to do - not with the bludger, with the quaffle. Go out there as a seeker - try and catch the snitch by all means - but for you to play mainly as a chaser, breaking up the Ravenclaw plays and deflecting the quaffle to our team. Come on, we’ll practice at training tonight.”

 

\--o-O-o--

 

They set up the team, with the reserves playing as the other team. Olivia put both her reserve keepers in so that she could observe and direct play. It worked fantastically.

Even though Rose couldn't catch the quaffle, she could do everything else but. She could get in amongst the ‘opposition’ chasers and break up their plays and formations. She could interrupt passes and punch the quaffle back to a teammate. She could even make impossible passes possible. Just say James wanted to pass to Andromeda, but there was an opposition player in the way. James could pass the quaffle to Rose positioned above or below the opposition player and she could redirect it to Andromeda.

The first time she flung the quaffle that way, Olivia blew her whistle and called them all in. “Ok, I hadn't thought about that particular wrinkle, but yes and no. It's such a good trick that we have to include it, but you can't fling the quaffle like that Rose - the opposition could say you were technically catching it. From having a look at what you've been doing, you've been mainly punching the ball, sort of like in Gaelic Football. So keep doing that. If you have to fling it, use a closed fist too. That way you can legitimately say you weren't trying to catch it. Ok?”

Every practice session for the next few weeks had Rose having her skills as a seeker-chaser reinforced. Olivia would at random intervals chuck one of her golf balls in odd directions, and Rose, who kept half an eye out, would peel off in an attempt to catch one. The team was sworn to secrecy and when the day of their last Albus Cup game came about, the whole team walked on to the pitch with confident grins upon their faces.

The day started off as normal, with a few exercises and a few drills - the ‘training’ part of the day. The stands started to fill at about ten and it was time for the game to begin. Everything started off as per normal, nothing of Rose’s behaviour or the team’s play gave anything away of what they had planned. Rose was flying around the pitch, looking like she wasn't going to do anything other than her normal seeker duties. Olivia had told her to hang back for a few plays to see if there was going to be an easy snitch catch and only come into the path of the chasers if she saw a good opportunity to do so.

There was no easy snitch catch to be had and in the third play of the day, Rose saw her first opportunity. A Ravenclaw chaser had the quaffle and he was trying to fake out James: if he did so with a fake pass, he'd have an unobstructed run to the goals; if he didn't and passed it to his teammate, the teammate would have an easy shot at goals. James got a bit too close to him and so he went to pass it off to his teammate who was now in the clear. That was the plan, but when he passed the quaffle, Rose swooped in, punched it back to James who was in a perfect position to rush past the two players and score.

All hell broke loose as Olivia had known it would: the ref blowing his whistle, the players shouting at each other, the commentator going crazy. Order was restored only after the ref had put his wand up to his throat and issued a loud, “SHUT UP!”

“Captains, here now. The rest of you keep quiet.”

Jen flew up to him and began decrying the cheating nature of Rose’s actions. Olivia sat back on her broom and took it all in, biding her time until Jen ran out of steam. When she did the ref turned to Olivia. “What do you have to say for yourself, Captain Wood?”

Olivia didn't directly address the ref, not out of any rudeness on her part, but out of a desire to focus upon the true object of her attention, the Ravenclaw captain. “When we all went to this lot,” waving an arm to indicate the Slytherin ref, and by extension all of the rest of the referees, “We all agreed that the rules for these games would be exactly the same as for regular quidditch. Except for the extra seeker bit, but everything else, exactly the same, remember?” Then Olivia proceeded to outline all the things that she’d told to Rose, except this time she quoted chapter and verse from the rule book. 

The Ravenclaw girl sat on her broom, her mouth falling open, wider and wider. She was too clever not to understand the implications and the correctness of the rules that Olivia was citing. Then Olivia said something that gave Jen an opening. Olivia said, “... and you can't change what we’re doing now and stop our seeker-chaser. The rules of the game during a season can’t be changed, any new rules come into play only from the next season on.”

“Ah Ha!” Declared Jen, “But the rules have changed this season. We didn't start out counting the scores of the extra seeker till after the first few games. That will invalidate that particular rule.” She looked over at the ref imploringly, but then made the mistake of looking back at Olivia. Jen's face froze when she saw the confident smirk upon the Gryffindor keeper’s face.

Olivia said, “Nuh-uh, You said,” and she repeated herself stabbing a finger at Jen, “you said yourself, when Holly asked that very question, you said, and I quote, ‘We will worry about the scoring, if we bother at all, during the year. We’ll see what turns up.’ And because you said that, while we were arguing over what rules we should use, that is a rule of the season. So it doesn't invalidate nothing.” 

Jen was almost at a loss for words but then she rallied, obviously having thought of something else. “Alright then, I'll just talk to Albus and get him to …”

But Olivia cut across her with another loud, “Nuh-uh-uh!” And waggled an imperious finger at her. “No you don't, what you haven't realised, what none of you realised, is that there are three teams playing quidditch today: You Claw’s, us Griffy’s of course _and Hufflepuff_.” She pointed a finger at Albus, “He's not playing for us or you’se this game; he's playing for the Puffers. It’s not just for the points, he is actually on their team for this game. So it's not up to me or you to tell him what to do. The only one who can is Holly.”

Rose hadn't recognised the name before, but from context she assumed Olivia was talking of the Hufflepuff captain.

There was a pause and the referee filled it. “Seeker Potter, fly over to your captain to ascertain your instructions as to what she wants you to do for the rest of this game.”

Albus wizzed off, leaving the Ravenclaw captain with her arms crossed and getting angrier and angrier as she looked over at Olivia who was looking back at her with an expression on her face that would make anyone want to punch her.

It wasn't a minute until Albus flew back. “She wants me to keep doing what I'm doing. In her words, me catching the snitch will keep Hufflepuff in contention, but only just.

“So be it.” Said the ref. “After hearing Captain Wood, I have to concur with her analysis of the rules. Seeker-chaser Weasley in no way violated the rules we're playing under, but note my words, Captain Wood. There are many ways that seeker-chaser Weasley can violate the rules, and I shall be carefully watching for infringement and penalize accordingly.”

“Fair enough,” Olivia said.

But it wasn't for the Ravenclaw captain, she still wanted to protest. “It isn't fair,” she shouted, but Olivia rounded on her.

“Oh yes it is. Do you know why you're so angry Jen? It’s not because it's unfair, not because I sprung this on you, but because you didn't think of it first!” Olivia wheeled round on her broom, summoning her team back to their positions, leaving the Ravenclaw captain behind her; completely at a loss for words.

Rose thought Olivia had hit it right on the mark. She saw Jen come to some sort of resolution, then fly up to her seeker and have a whispered conversation with him. Their whole team joined in a huddle, obviously talking tactics before the ref was to blow his whistle. When play resumed, the Ravenclaw seeker had dropped looking for the snitch and had joined the formation of the Ravenclaw chasers. 

Rose looked back to Olivia, who gave her a nod. Olivia had predicted exactly this, and the new plan was for Rose to abandon seeking at all and join with the chasers for as long as the Ravenclaw seeker did the same.

The whistle blew, play restarted and … it was even worse for Ravenclaw.

Far from helping his teammates, the Ravenclaw seeker was making things worse. He wasn't just getting in the way physically, even though he was also doing that quite a lot, his mere presence was messing up the Ravenclaw positioning. Unlike Rose.

The Gryffindors had two advantages in the person of Rose. The first being that while the Ravenclaw boy was presumably a proficient enough seeker, Rose was also a proficient chaser as well. And secondly, the Gryffindors had practiced and practiced. Rose had practiced not catching the quaffle, but only punching it. Also, the chasers had practiced playing with a four chaser side and against three and even four chasers (yes, with all their reserves they’d even practiced that).

The Ravenclaw experiment came to halt sixty points against them and twelve minutes later. The ref blew his whistle: the Ravenclaw Seeker, due to his nerves and inexperience had accidentally caught the quaffle. He looked so guilty, hovering in mid air as he was and holding the quaffle. He suddenly realised what he’d done, saw the quaffle in his hands and dropped it quickly. 

Gryffindor was awarded a free shot at goal, which, of course, they got, and Rose saw Jen fly up to her seeker. Even though they were too far from anyone to hear them, it was completely obvious to any observers to know exactly what was said between them. 

Jen, with slumped shoulders - ‘this is not working’. Then throwing up an arm towards Albus who was flying down the pitch - ‘you may as well go back to what you know’. And finally, Jen saying after him, as he started to fly away - ‘may as well try and get 150 points somewhere.’

The game resumed and Rose split her time between hunting for the snitch and helping the chasers - especially with some of their set plays - and it was more often than not that she was chasing rather than seeking. With the addition of Rose into the ranks of the chasers, the Gryffindor team was racking up the goals. Even when she wasn't helping the chasers, when she’d fly off to do a bit of hunting for the snitch, the Ravenclaw chasers had to keep half an eye open in case she came swooping back.

There were so many excellent plays, but there was one of note before the snitch was eventually caught and the game stopped. Rose had flown down to intercept a wild pass from the Ravenclaw chasers. When she got to the quaffle she quickly looked around, but there was no one in the clear she could punch it too; everyone else on her team were being marked by a Ravenclaw chaser. In a split second decision, Rose did the only thing she could do - she hit the quaffle softly and just in front of herself, trusting to wind resistance and the hovering charm on the quaffle, to arrest it's forward momentum enough so that she could get to it again and punch it again. The way the play was, she was very close to the goals and had only to hit it a couple more times before she was there. The Ravenclaw keeper was protecting the hoop closest to the concentration of chases and was caught flat footed (as much as you could on a broom) and flabbergasted by her move. Consequently Rose could punch the quaffle through a lightly defended hoop and score for Gryffindor.

Jen had to protest the goal, as a matter of course, but even Rose could see that her heart wasn't in it. The Slytherin ref thought he'd read something like it and ruled it as a goal. Later on, he looked it up and was right, in 1905 a quaffle had been deflected off a seeker’s elbow into a hoop and had been allowed.

The game ended only shortly after. Rose had always been keeping an eye on Albus and she suddenly saw him start to dive. She looked to where he was heading and saw that she was actually closer to the snitch, so she pulled away from the chasers and went for it. Unfortunately, Rose had to start from being stationary and her trajectory was fairly flat, whereas Albus was diving and had the speed advantage. It resulted in him catching the snitch just before Rose, but she made him work for it. Concentrating so much on her cousin and the snitch, she hadn’t paid attention to the Ravenclaw seeker. She had to do a quick and desperate maneuver to prevent herself from crashing into him as he’d been hot on the heels of Albus. 

When she righted herself and took stock of her surroundings, the noise of the crowd suddenly came to her attention - when she was playing she hardly noticed anything at all, let alone the crowd. She checked the score and saw that they’d not only won by enough to put Ravenclaw out of contention for the cup, but were also so far in front of Hufflepuff and Slytherin, that it would be very hard for either of them to catch up.

The crowd could do the math and knew it too. The Gryffindor supporters cheered the team into the change rooms as if they’d already won the cup. The mood was quite exuberant, but Olivia beat them all down. Ever the superstitious sportswoman, she didn’t want to celebrate the ‘victory’ prematurely and jinx the whole thing. They always had a party after every regular, House Cup game victory, but they usually didn’t have it after the Albus Cup ones - especially in Olivia’s mind, they were still only ‘practice’ games after all. When James sort of suggested the possibility of a party, Olivia jumped down on him hard.

James wasn't terribly upset, he never expected the suggestion to fly anyway - he just floated it out there, just because. Instead he gave a theatrical sigh. “Well, I suppose then we’ll just have to give you this here. The team and I - not that all of them know about it, I and Fred had to do it on their behalf, so as to preserve the secret - we got you this for being a great captain, and leading us to victory in not just one, but two competitions.”

“Ok, that’s enough of that, we haven’t won yet.”

There were mutterings from most of the players, all along the lines of ‘come off it, we as nearly have.’

Olivia cut across them all with a loud, “Don’t You Dare Jinx Us. OK?” But the half smile upon her lips put paid to the seeming anger of the reprimand. 

“So,” said James, carrying on, “we got you this captain’s t-shirt.” He was unwrapping a small parcel that he’d had in his kit bag and as he talked, everyone could see that there was something written upon it, but the words were still obscured. “This t-shirt has responses written upon it for every eventuality that you can face as a captain. On the front, you have one for when things are going wrong.”

He held up the shirt, so that everyone could see what was written upon it. There was a massive roar of laughter from everyone as they read - ‘The GTFOMT Court of Appeal’.

Everyone remembered, who could forget, when Olivia had chucked that awful boy out of the try-outs. She’d told him that if he didn’t like it, he could appeal to the Get-The-Fuck-Off-My-Team. The laughter was good natured, but Olivia was blushing and trying to shut it down with an, “Ok, Ok.”

“No,” said James, loudly and over the top of everyone else. Olivia looked at him quizzically. “For all other eventualities, that’s the back side of the t-shirt.”

He flipped around the t-shirt to reveal two enormous letters - ‘OK’

 

\--o-O-o--

They all left the change rooms in high spirits, still laughing about the t-shirt.

Dawnsfirstbloom was there to greet Rose, as usual, but who was with her drew her up short.

“Daddy!”

Her father turned, from talking to some other adults, at her cry, and, with a massive smile upon his face, began to move towards her, opening up his arms. She ran to him and flung herself at him. He caught her up in his arms, spinning her around as he warmly said, “Rosie.”

Rose was not embarrassed about her public display of affection. For one thing she was still young enough that she didn’t feel embarrassed by such affections towards a parent. For another thing, to be embarrassed by what other people thought of her, she’d actually have to care what they thought of her, and she didn’t.

When her father released her to allow her to land on her own two feet, Rose noticed a few other adults hanging around. Madame Cleansweep was officiating, as the representative of the school, Oliver Wood was standing with a man and a woman of a similar age to him - their bearing, their physiques, in fact everything about them simply screamed retired quidditch players. And, popping out from behind her dad was Rose’s Aunt.

“Hi, Aunt Ginny.” 

“Hi mum,” came a voice from behind Rose, and striding over to his mum to give her a hug, was James. “Not that I mind, but what are you both doing here?”

Before either of them got to answer, Olivia had seen her father and asked, in a rather loud voice, “So Dad, what did you think? Told you it’d be interesting, didn’t I?”

“That was simply amazing, my girl. I’m very glad you sent me that owl and told me to come.’It’ll be worth your while,’ you wrote, and you couldn’t have been more right.” His daughter had come abreast of him and he gave her a quick, one-armed hug - which is all a sixth year wants from her father, anything more would have been too embarrassing. Her father had the grace to know as much.

“Thanks dad. It was ok, wasn’t it? And I can’t believe that no one cottoned on to it before me. And it’s lucky I had Weasley, who’s not only a good seeker, but a decent chaser too.” 

Mr. Wood now turned his attention to Rose. “That was well played Rose. My daughter would tell me nothing of it before, but what a game, hey? I don’t think that I’ve seen anything like it, and I’ve seen hundreds, if not thousands of quidditch games.”

“Yes,” piped in Aunt Ginny. “That first play that you came in on. I saw you, James, so out of position …” she was shaking her head, looking sideways at her son who had his arm around her waist. “I had to wonder how you’d ever earned a place on the team, but when Rose swooped in, and you were in the perfect position to capitalise on it and score a goal - wow! And I didn’t even realise that you even had one inkling as to where Rose was, that sure was something, James.” She used the hand she had over his shoulder to mess up his hair affectionately.

He, in response, blew on the nails of his free hand and polished them on his robes. “I cannot just say it was only natural talent, mother dearest, _not only_ ” he said in a slightly affected manner, then returning to his natural way of speaking he added, “nah, a lot of it was down to the captain. She had us practicing and practicing. Lots of different moves and plays, just like that one - I’d deliberately get into a bad position, force the wild throw from the other chaser, only to have Rose whack it to me. I could have done that blindfolded, given the training captain Wood put us through.”

Rose could see that Olivia was blushing at the praise, but thankful for it, nevertheless.

“I especially liked that play where you hit the quaffle ahead of yourself,” Mr. Wood said, “then kept on going till you had scored a goal. How long did you have to practice to perfect that?”

Before Rose could reply, Olivia got there first. “No, dad. She came up with the … the Weasley Wibble, on the spot. Today was the first time she’d ever done it.”

Mr. Wood was nodding slowly, “I’m impressed.” He was equally impressed, truth to be told with the reactions of her players around his daughter. He was so proud of her when she had opened her Hogwarts letter and the Captain’s badge had fallen out, but that was as nothing to now, as he saw her with her team. She had crafted them into a cohesive unit that acted almost instinctively under her guidance. He truly hoped her eventual career would surpass his own.

The whole party slowly started to head up towards the castle where the adults would join them for a late lunch. On their way, with Dawn to one side and her father on the other, was when Rose got the best compliment yet. She felt a squeeze from her father’s arm around her shoulders and looked up into his smiling face. He gave her a massive wink and mouthed, ‘that’s my girl.’

Rose was on cloud nine, there was almost nothing she liked more than approval from her mum and dad. She only vaguely heard the conversation between the adults.

When she paid attention again, she heard Olivia saying, “So the scores have been even, snitch wise, because Albus is so good. He only hasn’t caught the snitch three times in these practice games all year, so the snitch points have been evenly spread over the whole teams.”

“So it’s been largely a chasers game then,” Aunt Ginny supplied.

“Exactly, Mrs. Potter. If there were more teams and an even spread in the abilities of the seekers - like if it was done with the number of teams in, say, the league - then I think you’d see a lot more of the seeker-chaser combos, like Weasley …”

But Rose paid it scant attention. She could stand tall by her cousin now. He might have a whole competition named after him, but Rose was now the first person in the world to play a game as a seeker-chaser. Even if it didn’t catch on, even if no one outside of Hogwarts was ever to play the Albus Variation, she would always know that she had been the first. And best of all, how many other players also could boast of a quidditch move named after them? The Porskoff Ploy, the Wronski Feint and others, and now there was hers:-

Rose Weasley, inventor of the Weasley Wibble.

* * *

**So, once again here is a new chapter, still excellently betan by my lovely beta, Anja; she of the Merlinsbeard. Thankfully my quidditch centric chapters have not put her off. I am always afraid that these sort of chapters are to boring or don’t make enough sense. Anja assures me they are not and I hope you all agree. If you do or you don’t, you can let me know in that tiny box below.**

**As to the Seeker/Chaser, this has been one of my intents since the very first of these revamped rules of quidditch. I’ve said before, and I’ve seen others write about it too, that the game of quidditch is terribly unbalanced as far as sports go - the snitch catch is worth far too many points. But if you could somehow lessen them and change it around a bit …**

**So this solution, is I think, a very wizarding one. In a game that has had major rules additions every time something new has come along here is something new. It’s also very ‘wizardy’ and different - can you tell me how many sports have members of three teams playing on the field at the same time? None to my knowledge. I can just see the sort of sport politics that would go into the decision to field a seeker or to help one particular side out with a seeker chaser - perhaps for future help in turn or to sink a rival team who is getting too many wins. The possibilities are exciting.  
**


	30. The Exam Which is not an Exam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes start their first year exams.
> 
> The strategies involved in winning the Albus cup are outlined; the students find an unwanted extra exam; Grandmothers and Smiths; and, the real purpose of the Grandmother's visit is explained.
> 
> _Dropforged weathered the first years ire and calmly said, “ I only promised you no exam, I didn't ever say that you wouldn't be tested.”_

**Note: If I was writing about Roslyn and Dawnsfirstbloom preparing for the arrival of the Grandmothers then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec, Dawnsfirstbloom and the Grandmothers are mine, all mine BWHA HA HA!**

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

The main banner and all chapter images have been painted by myself.

* * *

 

**Chapter 30: The Exam Which Is Not An Exam**

 

Truly, had the giant squid itself joined them for lunch at the Gryffindor table, Rose wouldn’t have known. She would have even passed it the salt had it requested such, and then gone back to her eating. Her conscious world consisted of waking, then running, meals, classes, studying and then back to sleep, rinse and repeat.

Of course, they won the quidditch, both the real House Cup and the Albus Cup too.

Jen, the Ravenclaw captain, had rounded on Olivia the day after the match where Rose had been the seeker-chaser. 

“You bloody bitch,” giving Olivia a punch in the arm.

Olivia couldn't stop her grin if she tried, “hey what's up Jen?”

“You know what, you smug bitch,” said her ‘friend’ and gave her another few whacks in her upper arms, which Olivia could only feebly block because she was laughing too much. “I've got either no choice or a bad choice. Because of your little ‘demonstration’, next time Albus will be playing for me, and I know now that I've got the power to tell him what to do. If I get him to go for the snitch, I can do no better than second for the cup. Or, on the other hand, I could replace him and put in one of those Seeker-Chasers, like your pet Weasley girl, and try on the off chance to help the Puffers beat you.”

“You could always go with …” Olivia began to say cheekily.

Jen cut her off, “I've already had that smug Slytherin bastard - yes even smugger than you, though that's difficult to believe - sniffing around, trying to get me to do just that, give him a Seeker-Chaser. I don't want to see him win even more than I do you,” she punctuated her words with a few more whacks to Olivia’s arms, “And you know that he will win too if I do it, he might even get enough points to win the the whole bloody Cup. He probably would, that little blond firsty would catch the snitch in an instant over Holly's seeker if Albus wasn't there.”

“So that's what you reduced me to, either swallow my lumps and come in second, or try to help Holly win - unlikely - or help that bloody Slytherin win the whole Cup.”

 

\--o-O-o--

 

In the end, Ravenclaw came second when Albus caught the snitch for them.

But, that was all over - the celebrations come and gone - and now it was down to studying and revision. Both of which, like anything school related, Rose threw herself into wholeheartedly. She wasn't terribly conscious of most of the other inhabitants of Hogwarts at the best of times, but now…

But now, the other inhabitants were nothing more than a human mist that Rose had to navigate through. Paying less attention to the people around her than would a hiker to the trees of a forest they were traversing. She wasn't stressed particularly, not like her mother had gotten at her age, just very, very focused. 

There was one point of confusion, and it occurred when they received their exam timetables. Amongst all the times and dates for their other subjects was also a time and date for a Fundamentals of Materials Technology and Fabrication exam. This was certainly not what had been promised. So it was, that Rose, and almost the whole of first year, had rounded on Professor Dropforged at breakfast, on the day they received their timetables, loudly decrying his promise of no exams.

He weathered the first years ire and calmly said, “I only promised you no exam, I didn't ever say that you wouldn't be tested.”

That caused most of the first years milling in front of the teacher's table to pause and look at each other in confusion. It was quickly dispelled when Professor Dropforged said, “it's nothing you have to study for. Remember, I said you would get an A if you made something, and an E if you made something you were truly proud of, and an O if you made two or more. Well, how do you think that's going to be judged? Representatives from the goblin Clans will be coming to have a look, some of our wise women, and they will…”

But he was interrupted by a loud exclamation from Dawnsfirstbloom, “The Grandmothers?! The Grandmothers are coming ‘ere?” 

Dropforged looked in pity at her dismay. “ Yes young Dawnsfirstbloom,” he said kindly, “the Grandmothers will be coming to see how well you’ve all done.”

Dawnfirstbloom screeched and, flapping her hands around, ran from the Great Hall. 

Rose knew her friend very well, but she had no idea what had made Dawnsfirstbloom so upset. In the brief moment before Dawnsfirstbloom had run from the hall, Rose had seen true panic in her friend’s behaviour. Not wanting to alarm anyone else, nor betray the level of concern she felt, Rose half smiled and shrugged at the surprised faces around her and hurried the after the goblin. Behind her she heard Dropforged reassuring the rest of the first years. 

“It is a goblin thing,” waving a dismissive hand the way Dawn had gone, “there's nothing for you to be worried about. They are just a few nice old goblin ladies who-”

But that's all Rose heard, because she’d left the hall herself. A few corridors later, Rose finally caught up with her friend. “Dawn!” Rose called after her.

Dawnsfirstbloom stopped her rush, not that it looked like she was heading anywhere particular. Even then, Dawnsfirstbloom couldn't keep still - flapping her arms and pacing forwards and backwards, Rose had never seen her like it. 

“Hey it's alright, Dawn.”

“No it's not, it's the Grandmothers,” and gave Rose a look as if that said it all, but Rose shook her head and shrugged, she had no idea what Dawnsfirstbloom meant. Dawn made a dismissive noise, waved an equally dismissive hand at Rose and went back to her pacing. “You wouldn't understand.”

“Well explain it to me then,” Rose said in exasperation. “It's obviously some Goblin thing that I don't know. If it's so important to you - and obviously it is - then it's important to me too.”

Dawn stopped her pacing and looked at Rose a bit shamefacedly, Dawnsfirstbloom had encountered some racism during this year amongst the humans. Very little truly overt, but enough of that casual racism that colours the speech and understanding of the ignorant. But not Rose. She had only ever been nice to her - wanting to understand her and the ways of the goblins. She owed Rose more than this abrupt dismissal so she began to explain. 

Goblin hierarchy, it appeared to Rose, had a few distinct branches, each of them having their own distinct roles and all were as powerful as each other in their own ways. Internally, within each tribe and each clan, there were the usual offices of leadership that any organisation might have. Most wouldn’t be dissimilar to any equivalent human one. But their ranks were comprised of normal goblins. Goblins who had no extranormal abilities. 

Over the top of these, were, traditionally, two classes of goblins that overrode the clan structure, being greater than any individual clan or tribe. These goblins were answerable to Goblinkind as a whole. Traditionally there had been only two, but now with the advent of the goblin witches and wizards there was another kind of extra-normal goblin. But the goblin wizards didn’t have the traditional cachet that the other two groups had. So they didn’t exercise much political power. Their function was far more practical, and far more in demand - with the constant need for spell work for the entire goblin society of Great Britain being dependant upon only a score of goblin wizards.

 

The first of these traditional groups, were the Smiths. Rose knew about them, from her cousin and her uncle. They were the tier above the clan hierarchies. Their number was small and were largely dominated by male Goblins, which, incidentally, held true for regular Clan politics as well. Women among their ranks were a rare exception. The Smiths, due to their intrinsic natures, kept the whole of goblin society working together and stopped the clans from disintegrating into chaos, fighting each other as had happened in the bad old days. The essential quality of a Smith was selflessness, and that served the society well.

The other group were the Grandmothers. They worked behind the scenes, the Wise Women of the tribes. From what Rose could gather, from what Dawn was telling her, they held the old knowledge of the goblins - the tribal lore. Sort of the same place that a shaman would hold in primitive muggle cultures. But on top of being keepers of ancient lore, they did have some semi mystical abilities too, like the Smiths. Not every old female Goblin would become a Grandmother, even if they were actual grandmothers. It was the Grandmothers who could tell if a goblin was a Smith or not, and as such their value to the combined clans was invaluable and unquestioned. Their other main role, was that at least one Grandmother was attendant at every goblin's birth. They could look into the soul of the newly born child, and sometimes even partially into their future. They helped to select the child's name. They would tell the parents if the name that they had chosen was a good fit or not. Sometimes the Grandmother would be asked to provide a name if the parents so wished. And sometimes, if the sense of the future or nature of the babe was particularly strong, they would instruct the parents on what the name of the child was, whether they liked it or not. It was why some goblins had names so eerily connected to what they did or what they were good at as adults.

“And we don't ‘ave one,” Dawn said in consternation, “Our tribe, that is, much to our shame. Our last one died when I was young in a ‘orrible mining accident. And since then, there ‘as been no one else. There might be some growing up, but,” she shrugged her shoulders, “I don't know ‘ow it really works, but I know that you can't tell if you’re going to be a Grandmother till you get old yourself. I met one, ‘a course, when I was tested for Smiff when I was a little kiddy, but not since then. And now they're going to come to ‘ogwarts to judge our stuff. Stuff I've made.” Dawn was working herself up into hysteria again and it was all Rose could do to prevent her friend rushing off to the workshops to finish all her projects right then.

They went to their classes, but as soon as they were free, and any spare time in the weeks to come, Dawn would go to the workshops and Rose would accompany her. Rose was so far ahead in her revision that she could afford extra time spent there. She had completed every one of the projects - she had abandoned none - but the quality of some of them wasn't that good. Still, she had had a go at everything and had something to show for each of the materials that they had worked with. It left her with a dilemma, though. Should she show off all of her work and thus highlight her stamina/persistence? Or, should she only show those she was genuinely proud of?

Because some of her projects were not really that good at all. Rose was honest enough with herself, unless she was being unconsciously obtuse, so she didn’t fool herself into believing everything she did was exceptional. Especially, and to her complete chagrin, the woodworking and metalworking tasks were the ones she was poorest in. She had really wanted to be good in everything, and had really, really, wanted to be good at the ‘boys’ stuff, but she hadn't been. Oh, she was ok, there were plenty worse than her, but her wooden pencil case and her metal tool box were not really up to the standards she would have wished.

Dawnsfirstbloom thought Rose was being too hard on herself. Everyone in the class had their strengths and weaknesses and most people had completed far less projects than Rose had. Dawnsfirstbloom’s woodwork was worse than Rose’s, for instance, but her metalwork was easily the best in the class. Dawn had even helped the other kids finish their works, going around the class, giving advice and even help, here and there. It was something Professor Dropforged encouraged - anyone who found something easy and was finished quickly, was welcome to help out their classmates. Rose saw it for what it was, it was a way to make each student feel special and empowered. It also reinforced what Rose already knew - nothing was as good for your own knowledge of something as having to have to explain it to others. And, cynically, Rose had also thought, it was a good way to get extra instructors in a course that was quite critically understaffed.

But it didn't stop her from helping out when they did sewing and knitting. Evan had helped out when they were painting and drawing - he really was quite good. Not that Rose needed that much help in that department, she could draw quite well, but under his tutelage she did improve her ability to capture a likeness. It was much to the annoyance of the Hufflepuff girls they shared the class with. Rose didn’t know, but Dawnsfirstbloom had overheard them complaining to each other that, ‘she’s good at drawing too? That’s not fair.’ 

Ayesha had helped in the jewelry making - one thing that Rose has been reasonably proficient at, but had found really boring. It wasn't like they actually made that much jewelry as such, they'd just constructed items from pre-existing beads and wire. There was a bit of creativity in what you selected and how you put it together, but it left Rose cold. Unlike most of the Hufflepuff girls, they wanted to make necklace after necklace, earrings, bracelets, anything that looked shiny and that they could wear.

It was stuff like that that made Rose really appreciate just how good the Making Stuff lessons were. Not that she paid that much attention to the Puffer girls, but she saw them strutting around, proudly showing off the jewelry that they'd made. Proud of being able to make something with their own two hands. There were really very few students that had come out of the class without having made at least one thing that they were proud of.

So Rose accompanied Dawnsfirstbloom to the workshops, but she was really only tinkering - finishing off things that she’d already constructed, ‘polishing’ them up and making them shine. When she ran out of even that, she took to studying for the other exams in the workshop to keep Dawn company. So that, everytime Dawnsfirstbloom worked herself up into a state, Rose was there to calm her down. 

“But they’re the Grandmothers.” Dawnsfirstbloom would say as if that said it all.

On occasion Rose tried to help out her mate, but Dawnsfirstbloom shut her down even then. “ Nope, can’t Rose.g.f. It has to be my stuff, made only by me. If it isn't, the Grandmother's will know.” She said the last with such a serious earnestness on her face, that Rose had to suppress her first instinct to laugh. She still smiled, and told her friend that it couldn't be so. Dawnsfirstbloom would not be swayed from her conviction however, that the Grandmothers would know, and what’s more, judge her badly if she received any help.

So Rose had to sit by and offer only suggestions and not be of any material help to her friend.

As the exams drew closer Dawnsfirstbloom became more and more frantic, but only about the impending visit from the Grandmothers. Rose was quite sanguine herself, as she’d come to the conclusion that it was best to go with the things that she was proud of and not everything that she’d done. The Professor knew that she had completed everything, and that was enough for her, in that respect. So she was only going to put those items out that she thought were really well done - and that was an impressive ten, so she wouldn’t have had anything to worry about. Happy about that decision, she gave that very advice to Dawn, told her not to be stressed and only put out what was her best. 

Rose had given that advice whilst they were together in the workshops on the last Saturday before the exams. She found the workshops weren’t too bad a place to study; everywhere else, the desperation of the other students was even beginning to get to her. Silence was the only thing that answered Rose’s pronouncement and it dragged on so long that it caused Rose to look up from her notes. Dawn was standing there, gazing at the metal toolbox, softly stroking it for some reason. 

“What’s up, Dawny?”

“Just … you said I should show off the best things I've made this year didn't you? But what … what if I ‘aven't made it in class?

Rose blew out a breath, “so what. Did you make it this year? Yes? Did you make it yourself? Then do it. I was half thinking of asking you for the manticore I made you, seeing if I could borrow it back to show it off myself.”

Dawn whirled around and looked intensely at Rose, "really?”

“Oh yeah, but I didn't because I didn't think it'd be fair. I’ve had a lot more practice crocheting than everyone else has, and that manticore was of a design so much more difficult than what we had to do in class.”

“But that don't matter, you did it. I want you to use it, I really do it's beautiful and …” Dawn came to a halt, but then she obviously reached a decision because she went over to the racks against the wall and to the box that housed her stuff. She came back with something small that was wrapped up in tissue paper.

“I was saving this for your birthday, so you'd better act surprised when you get it back then. But, if you don't mind, I'll use it to show off to the Grandmothers.”

Dawn handed it reverentially over and Rose took it with the same care. It may have been small, but it was really heavy for its size. Through the tissue paper, Rose could see a glint that told her it was something made of metal. It made sense to Rose, whatever extra curricular thing Dawn had made would most likely be of metal, that was her strength after all. She held the present in her left hand and unwrapped it carefully with her right. When the last leaf of tissue paper had turned over, Rose’s breath caught.

Lying in her palm was a metal rose.

A bud, just starting to bloom.

It was made the same way as the tool box they had made - sheet metal welded together - but the rose was constructed on a fine scale, so many skill levels beyond the toolbox. The individual petals must each have been made out of tin bent into shape and welded to the stem. Each petal was delicate, the largest being no bigger than her thumb nail. On the back of it, Dawn had welded a safety pin like device, so it was obviously meant to be worn as a broach.

Rose looked up from the contemplation of the rose with wonder in her eyes. “It’s beautiful Dawn, you have to show the Grandmother’s this, you just have to.”

“You like it then?”

“Oh Dawn, it's probably the most beautiful thing I've ever gotten.”

 

\--o-O-o-- 

 

On the Sunday, the next day, the ministry examiners were to arrive in the evening, and the Grandmothers with them. The official welcome and greeting was going to happen at the feast in the Great Hall that night, but they were all going to actually arrive a few hours earlier to get settled in.

Consequently, those students who weren’t otherwise too consumed by revision lined the entrance to the school and up the main staircase, eagerly awaiting the their first look at the examiners. Rose was there of course, being very comfortable with her revision. Dawnsfirstbloom was there too. She’d broken off her revision and her work in the workshops, not because she was as prepared as Rose, but rather because she felt that it was somehow disrespectful towards the Grandmothers if she wasn’t to be present for their arrival.

As they were waiting, Dawnsfirstbloom suddenly gripped Rose’s arm. “Albus!” she said in a fierce whisper.

“What about him?”

“I forgot to tell him what to do.” At Rose’s puzzlement, Dawn shook Rose’s arm that she still had hold of. “About the Grandmothers. ‘e’s the ranking goblin of ‘ogwarts, isn’t ‘e, ‘im and ‘is brother. If ‘e doesn’t greet them, and do it proper…”

Her whispering, and the other voices around them, all hushed as McGonagall moved forward into the empty space in front of the great doors once the silhouettes announced the arrival of the examiners. “Most honored representatives of the Ministry. How gracious of you to surrender your precious time in the most noblest of ways - that of furthering the education of our youth. The whole of Hogwarts bids you welcome, and may your stay be as refreshing for you as it shall be rewarding for us all.”

Rose looked at her Headmistress in confusion, the sort of obsequious tone in her voice and her choice of words was very unlike McGonagall. She compounded the strange behaviour by sketching a deep curtsey as the back lit figures resolved themselves into a bunch of older witches and wizards. They began to enter the building proper and the students got a better look at them - all except one. One largish figure who remained backlit against the door with it’s hand on it’s hip and it’s head cocked to one side. 

“Knock it off Minerva, your fancy words aren't fooling anyone.”

There was a gasp of surprise from a lot of the assembled students, but it now made sense to Rose - this person must be an old friend of Mcgonagall’s. The Headmistress was showing that often concealed, cheeky side to her nature.

McGonagall’s behaviour confirmed it as she straightened up from her curtsey, not with a scowl as all the students had expected, but with a wide smile upon her face. She took a few quick steps towards the figure and the figure did the same towards her - revealing itself to be an older witch, smaller and rounder in shape where McGonagall was taller and thinner. They both caught each other up in a hug and kissed each other on the cheeks.

“Oh, Pomona, I’ve missed you. I don’t believe it’s been only a year since you’ve been gone, how’s retirement suiting you? Only a few weeks to go and I’ll be joining you … actually, there’s something I need to talk to you about - about next year.”

Rose assumed, from the exchange, that the new witch must have been a recently retired Professor, but otherwise, she had no idea who she was.

Dawnsfirstbloom wasn’t concentrating on any of the exchange, she was still looking desperately around for Albus, but she needn’t have worried. Just as a few more silhouettes in the doorway appeared and resolved themselves into three old female goblins, Albus stepped forward into the open space. McGonagall must have known herself what he must have been about to do, as she had shuffled herself and her old friend aside, out of the way.

Rose felt Dawnsfirstbloom relax beside her, but then her grip re-tightened upon her arm as Dawnsfirstbloom said, “I ‘ope ‘e knows what to do.” 

Again, she needn't have worried about him, as Albus began to speak, Rose felt the grip upon her arm relax once more.

Very early on in the year, Albus had been taken aside by Dropforged who had explained, in no uncertain terms, that Albus, along with his brother, were now the ranking Goblins in Hogwarts. Dropforged was considerably lower than him in status, not just in terms of his Clan, but also Albus’ rank as Smith. Albus was further surprised, almost mortified, when Dropforged began to outline what he was going to be teaching and Albus realised he was being asked his permission: asked if what his Professor was going to do met his approval.

Albus had stopped him dead in his tracks, horrified at what his unearned status really meant to goblins. He’d repeated what he'd said to Dawnsfirstbloom and the other goblins on the train: as far as he was concerned, everyone at Hogwarts was equal.

Dropforged pleasantly acquiesced, but in reality it had been a subtle test of Albus’ character. When he had done the same to James last year, James had in tantamount said the same thing, but he had done so in such a cheeky manner that only James could successfully pull off. It hadn’t upset Dropforged, he could appreciate the humour behind the false _Noblesse oblige_ of James’ response in ‘allowing’ him to teach as he had outlined.

Albus was far more serious than his brother when it came to responsibility. So Dropforged impressed upon him that it was fine and laudable for Albus to stick to his belief in their equality, but if any goblins came to the castle, or if they had to interact in anyway with goblins outside of Hogwarts, Albus and his brother were the ranking goblins of Hogwarts. It was a fact. If Dropforged was to greet any outside goblins, or take the lead, before they did, it would be seen as a great insult.

As a consequence, after the first years had seen Dropforged about the exam, he had pulled Albus aside and told him that this was going to be one of those occasions. Moreover, he instructed him on the proper way to greet the Grandmothers and how he was to behave. It had impressed upon Albus, that whilst Dropforged normally had such an easy going manner, he obviously held the Grandmothers in high regard and not a little bit of trepidation too.

Albus had asked James if he wanted to greet the Grandmothers, but his brother had declined. “We both know you’re better at that sort of stuff and way better speaking Gobbledegook than I am. I will back you up though, if you want.”

So it was that when Albus stepped up and began his introductions, James stepped up behind him. 

Rose caught only half the words of the greeting, obviously her own Gobbledegook had a long way to go. Albus finished what he was saying and sketched a deep bow towards the elderly goblins. James stepped around him and said, in English, “Please allow me to take your baggage ladies.” Whipping out his wand, he lifted the bags which the Grandmothers had placed upon the ground. The cases bobbed up into the air with his ‘Wingardium Leviosa’. He too bowed to the Grandmothers and flung out an arm with a, “this way ladies.”

They moved towards Albus who had straightened up and began to converse with him - in tones too low for Rose to catch. James began to lead them away, the flying bags clearing a way in front of them, with Albus taking the arm of the leading Grandmother.

Rose was suddenly aware of the fierce grip Dawnsfirstbloom had upon her arm relaxing and letting go. Dawnsfirstbloom let out a deep breath that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. “Bless the tunnels, but that went better than I woulda ‘fought. Shoulda trusted Albus, course ‘e’d be on top of it.”

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Luckily, for the state of Dawnsfirstbloom’s mental health, the next day and the start of the exams, was also to see the examination of the projects the first years had made by the Grandmothers. The Charms theory exam was to be in the morning, with the practical in the afternoon. The viewing of their projects was to follow, just before dinner, allowing them to return to their studies for their Transfiguration exam the next day.

Dawnsfirstbloom couldn’t have held it together for the rest of the week, if she’d had to see the Grandmothers on a later day.

The morning of the exams didn’t see Rose change her routine at all. She was up early and on her run, the only indication that she had an exam in the morning was that she had a Rose Reader in the summary of her charm’s notes. Rose even extended her run - there was nothing to distract her, unlike the multitude of distractions to be found in the castle. It wouldn't be surprising at all, she thought, if the distractions provided by other students had increased tenfold now that exams were to be underway. She even stopped when she came to the point that she normally turned around, to pull out her wand and practice a few charms as well.

By the time she wanted to return, she had all the twigs and leaves by the path either floating or dancing or doing whatever she wanted them to. When she turned to leave, a final swish of her wand made them all drop back, lifeless, onto the ground. She left them and her whispered words - her old Charms Mantra of ‘think like Malfoy’ - far behind her as she ran back along the path.

Her suspicions proved to be correct when she returned to the castle. There were far more people up and about than when she normally returned from her run, even given that she had stayed out longer. The stress of the impending exams had driven the students from their beds. There was an air of nervousness and quiet desperation that Rose still only subconsciously picked up on. It was enough though, to see her grab only a few things to eat on the return, before she dashed off to her dorm to shower. The other first years threw a barrage of questions her way, and she fielded them quickly and politely as she munched some of her toast and ate her bacon before she left.

The empty dorm had a solitude that she relished. One refreshing shower later she went back downstairs to join the other students milling around outside the Great Hall as the tables inside were cleared from Breakfast and set up for the impending exams.

Charms went well. There was no problem with the written portion of the exam and when it came to the practical, a few repetitions of ‘think like Malfoy’ calmed her down considerably and set her on the right track.

In the afternoon, after charms, the first years all went down to the workshops to set up their finished projects upon the bench tops. The students with only one or two completed projects were up the front, bundled together. The number of students to a bench lessened as you got further back in the room and as the number of items in front of each student increased. Rose was right at the back, She would only show off to the grandmothers what she was actually proud of. Dawnsfirstbloom stayed beside her, even though she had less items than Rose - but most people had less items than Rose

The flower Dawnsfirstbloom had made for her was front and centre, pride of place, in front of Dawn. Similarly, in front of Rose, stood the manticore she’d designed and made for her friend. 

When the Grandmothers arrived, Dawnsfirstbloom tensed beside her. Rose bent down and put a comforting arm around her shoulders and whispered that it would be ok - from what Rose had seen, little in the whole class could match the tin rose that Dawn had made for her. It did calm Dawnsfirstbloom down quite a bit, but Rose knew it wasn't just the judging of her stuff that was making her friend anxious, it was mainly the fact of seeing the Grandmothers at all. 

The elderly goblins paused and looked around the room. Once they’d spotted Albus, they started to make their way towards him. But Albus halted their progress through the room when he said, “Grandmothers, I am aware of the honour you do me by seeking me out first, but please attend to everyone in order. I am patient, I can wait.” 

As the goblins stopped, one in particular had a strange expression pass over her face in reaction to the young man's actions. Cocking her head to one side in some thought or other, but then nodded back. “As you please, Son of Smith, Potter, you are gracious to your companions of school.”

Albus was naturally generous and thoughtful anyway, but in this case Dropforged had said that they could all leave once they had their stuff seen by the goblin elders; he knew that they had plenty more exams to study for and didn't need to wait around while everyone else was seen. The whole first two rows would probably be out of there after twenty minutes or so. Before the goblin elder turned back to the front, she looked Dawnfirstbloom's way and said, “We will get to you in order too, as the Smithson wishes.”

Dawnsfirstbloom couldn't have replied, completely tongue-tied as she was, and awkwardly jerked herself into a curtsy at the same time that she nodded.

Rose tried to calm her again. “Relax, just relax Dawny. You got nothing to worry about, they’re going to like what you've made and they will like you too. If they don't - well, if they don't think you're wonderful, like I do - then they're not worth wasting your time and respect on.”

Dawn looked up and around at her friend with a smile. “Thanks Rose.g.f.”

What they didn't know was that the same Grandmother who addressed Dawnsfirstbloom and Albus overheard them. Goblins had slightly better hearing than humans. It wasn't as well known as the fact the goblins had better night sight - that was obvious for beings who lived in dark tunnels. But, in addition to that, their hearing was better too - though mostly it was just physics. Big ears did mean that you could catch more soundwaves, just look at dogs and rabbits, for instance. So the Grandmother heard, but she didn't stop, didn't give away that she'd overheard what Rose had said. Once she got back to the front of the room, only then did she turn to inspect the young human girl that would offer such words of comfort to a goblin.

The first few rows were done and over with relatively quickly. Not all of them were kids who didn't care that much, some of them were those who only had a few projects that they were proud of and wanted to show off - the rest of their stuff hadn't been up to much or they’d abandoned the projects that employed techniques they simply weren't any good at. There was some good stuff there too. Evan's drawings were amazing and he'd made frames for them when it came time to do the woodwork. A lot of the Hufflepuff girls and some of the Gryffindor ones, and the Ravenclaw … actually, a lot of the other girls liked the jewelry making and had made extra, beyond the single beaded necklace that everyone had to make. Once they were seen, they packed up their stuff and the first few rows of kids left. Because the rest of the kids were more spread out, having more items in front of each of them, that left around about a third of the first years remaining to be seen.

That number did include Albus and Scorpius, sat in the back rows with Rose and Dawnsfirstbloom. It was a revelation to Rose how much Scorpius had made and how good some of it was. She was impressed despite herself. The one thing she did note was that there were no drawings amongst his stuff, nothing with painted images on it either, unlike Rose’s. But she had to admit, his woodwork, his wooden box, was beautiful and far better than most of what she had seen any of the other students produce in class. 

Once the grandmothers had seen those in the rows directly in front of them, and the students had been dismissed, they came to the last row, which was Dawnsfirstbloom, Rose, Scorpius and Albus, in that order. The first they stood in front of was Dawnsfirstbloom. She was still a bit nervous, but she gave Rose’s hand one last squeeze, and released it before bowing to the goblin elders. In Gobbledygook she said, **“Thank you, Grandmothers for doing us the ‘onour of viewing our projects.”**

The elder who’d spoken before replied, in gobbledygook, too, **“Young Dawnsfirstbloom, you, of course, know what this is all about?”**

Dawn did not, and the confusion must have shown upon her face. The Grandmother shot Professor Dropforged a dirty look as she turned around to him, **“Dropforged!”** She said, somewhat angrily.

He looked guilty and shrugged. **“I forgot. Anyway, I don't like telling them beforehand I don't want to get anyone's hopes up.”**

The grandmother made a disapproving face and shook her head, she turned back to Dawnsfirstbloom. **“We are here, not just to see your work youngling, but also to see if this class of wizards has any Smiths amongst their number.”**

Rose couldn't follow all they were saying, they were here not only to judge the items, that she heard, but there was something else too, something she did not quite catch. Whatever it was, made Dawnsfirstbloom jerk in surprise, it must have been something important. Funnily enough, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Scorpius do exactly the same. His own eyes went wide and he furiously whispered to Albus beside him. Whatever it was that he said, Albus only grinned back at his mate’s earnestness and bumped him with his shoulder good-naturedly.

The Goblin was talking more and Rose could hardly follow any of it now. 

**“We were all sorry to hear about the death of Coldrockslie. It was a tragic accident and must have been devastating for your tribe.”**

**”Thank you, Grandmothers,”** Dawn replied with a bow, **“everyone was very upset. I did not really know ‘er too well, I was too young, but she wasn't the only one to die in the accident - one of my good mates lost ‘is family as well. But I know ‘er passin’ left a large ‘ole in the tribe.”**

**“Perhaps, young Dawnsfirstbloom, in time you may fill that gap yourself.”**

Whatever the elderly Goblin had said to Dawn - something about _filling_ something, was all Rose heard - it had shocked Dawn. Her mouth fell open and she whispered, **“ you're not serious?”**

It made the Goblin in front of her laugh. **“We don't know yet, young witch, even Lightsthefire herself is not of age to know if she will become a Grandmother, we have yet to see. But for now, we already know that you are not a Smith, so by your leave, we will move on to your friend.”**

Dawn snapped back to herself and gave Rose a slight nudge.

**“Please, Grandmothers, allow me to introduce my friend Rose Weasley, who is a Goblin Friend by way of her dam - ‘ermione Granger, the freer of elves.”**

That was Rose’s cue and she curtseyed deeply, and in gobbledygook said, **“Thank you esteemed Grandmothers for coming to Hogwarts to look over the projects of the junior wizards. We are aware of the honour you do us.”** And she bowed again.

When she straightened up, the chief amongst the elderly goblins had a look of pleased surprise upon her face. **“You speak our language?”**

**“A little bit,”** Rose replied, holding up her index finger and thumb almost touching. **“Dawnsfirstbloom is learning me to.”** The truth was, Rose was finding the going difficult. She was persisting, but she didn't have the natural ear that some people possessed for learning languages.

“Look at this,” one of the other goblins said, reverting to English in deference to Rose. The other goblins had been looking at the objects in front of Rose and Dawnsfirstbloom. One of them held up the rose Dawn had made. The other goblin said, “and this too,” holding up the manticore Rose had made. It pleased Rose to hear so, but it surprised her too: quite obviously, now that Rose thought about it, the Grandmothers possessed some sort of power to detect subtle and esoteric traces of how something was made.

The lead Goblin looked at both objects appraisingly and looked at both the girls. She reached over taking the objects in both hands and said, “these were made with love.” The other two goblins nodded. Placing the objects back upon the bench, she said, “come closer, please, RoseWeasleyGoblinfriend.”

Rose came up in the gap between the tables and bent down towards the Goblin, at her motioning Rose to do so. She held Rose’s head between both hands and turned it from side to side, looking deeply into the young girl’s eyes. It was obvious she didn't find what she was looking for, but before she let Rose’s face go, a look of puzzlement crossed her own face. **“There is something there, but she is not a Smith.”** Returning to English she said, “You are both good girls and we expect great things from you.” She nodded at them both and they both curtseyed back as she went on to Scorpius.

Scorpius bowed to the goblins and, as far as Rose could tell, repeated much of the same sentiments as Rose had, but this time in his impeccable gobbledegook. 

“Ah, the young Scion of the House of Malfoy. And Goblin Friend elect, too.” Scorpius look surprised. “Oh yes, we know of it. Such things have to be reported to the councils. We shall see how it goes, but, I have to say, understanding our language will go a long way.” She gave him an exaggerated and conspiratorial wink .

He looked surprised for a moment, but then he beamed at her. “Thank you distinguished elder, you do me more honor than I deserve.”

She looked up at him appraisingly, then down to the stuff that he’d made upon the table. She ran her hands over some of his projects and look back at Scorpius. “We shall see, Master Malfoy, we shall see.”

When it was obvious that he wasn't going to receive the same head holding that Rose had, he tried to conceal his disappointment, but wasn't fully able. Rose wondered what his problem was and saw Albus grab his shoulder in a conciliatory way. The gesture was not missed by the Goblin in charge. She moved in front of his table and nodded to Albus. **“Greetings Smith son, Albus Potter of the Strongarm, Clan Deep Delver.”**

**“Again I greet you, honoured elder.”**

Whilst he greeted her, she almost leisurely reached out and touched one of Albus's projects. A sly smirk suffused her features and she stepped back, motioning for her compatriots to inspect his stuff for themselves. They were a bit puzzled at her actions, but when they picked up an item, Albus had made, for themselves, their mouths dropped open in surprise. One of the two goblins kept fondling her object, a carved paper-knife, closing her eyes while she did so, to concentrate upon her sense of touch. The other one dropped hers back upon the table, to take up another object, but it and another two were quickly dismissed until she came to his metal toolbox. Once she touched it, that was the one she picked up and held, softly stroking it. Rose was wondering at the actions of the Grandmothers, the object Albus had made looked no better than most of same ones made by other people in the class. His toolbox was no better than Dawn’s and his pencil case was far inferior to that made by Scorpius.

The one who’d held the paper-knife, placed it back upon the table and immediately hurried around to grab Albus, pull him down to her level and take his head in both hands. She looked deep into his eyes, as the leader Goblin had done for Rose, turning his head backwards and forwards. Still holding him, she looked back to the lead Goblin who was standing there serenely. Her gaze was slightly accusatory as was her tone. “You knew?”

“Only suspected,” she replied. “I thought I had detected something as he greeted us, but this confirms it.”

The other goblins, realising they had slipped out of character in their excitement, regained their composure, and stepped back behind the other lead Goblin, where she stood in front of Albus’ table. As one, the three old lady goblins straightened up, completely serious, they curtsied to Albus and said together. “We greet you, True Smith Albus Severus Potter.”

They straightened up once again from their curtseys, and the middle one, the obvious leader, said, in a strong commanding way, “True Smith you be.”

The goblin to her right, in the same tone added, “No longer honorary, bestowed upon you by the deeds of your sire. True Smith you be”

The last finished with, “By your honour bound, by hearth and heart, True Smith you be.”

The effect upon Dawnsfirstbloom and Professor Dropforged was immediate. They both had been shocked to begin with, standing there stunned as the Grandmothers made their pronouncement. But, as soon as they had recovered, they both rushed around to stand with the Grandmothers. They bowed and said in unison, “True Smith, we greet you and shall follow your wisdom through the dark tunnels to come.”

A stunned Albus barely managed to say, “You sure?”

The main Grandmother replied. “The evidence is most sure. Like your father before you, your title may have been conferred upon you honorarily, but it has come to be yours by dint of being actually true.” 

Rose suddenly understood what the head holding must have been for, what the chief of the Grandmothers must have said to Dawnsfirstbloom. It was a bit silly to miss something that she’d not only never had, but also something she found about after the fact, but she sort of did. She also suddenly realised why Scorpius had looked disappointed as they passed him over. He understood gobbledegook better than her and must have understood from what they said to Dawn, what they were looking for.

“Nope, I'm not having this.” Albus suddenly said.

“I'm afraid you have no choice,” the leader of the Grandmothers said, “you are a Smith.”

“Fine. I understand, but Dawn, Professor Dropforged - stop that. Stop bowing to me. While we're at school we are equal,” he said. Dawnsfirstbloom stood up, but the professor remained stooped over. “Professor, I mean it.”

Professor Dropforged lifted his head from his bowed position and cocked an eyebrow at Albus. It must have meant something to Albus, because he sighed in exasperation. “Yes of course, if there's anything official I'll be the Smith and represent the Hogwarts goblins - like you told me at the beginning of the year. But at other times, you're my professor, and I'm your student.”

“So be it, Smith Potter,” said the diminutive Professor straightening up, “and it's as I suspected.”

Slipping into Rose's conscious mind, from the dark recesses of her memory, came James’ words from months ago - ‘We both know Albus is better than us.’

Of course he was a true Smith.

At this realisation, her slight disappointment at not being a Smith faded away. Dawnsfirstbloom had explained about the semi mystical leaders of goblin Society. Rose had known some things about them before: about how they were the ones who could invest portions of their souls into objects that they made, and in this way fashion soul items. Part of the reason that they could do this was that they were big hearted, they were literally ‘generous souls’. In a rare example of good group decision making, the goblins of the past had seen that, in the Smiths, they had a number of goblins that would make judgements based upon what was good for others and not upon their self-interests. By their very natures would they do this. Consequently they were made the leaders of their Society.

If Albus, kind, big hearted Albus was a Smith, that just made sense.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

By the next day word had gone around and all the other Hogwarts goblins came and made the same gesture of obeisance to Albus. He bore with it stoically and reiterated to each of them that they were all equals whilst they were here at school. 

And the other Goblin kids did so, treating him like any other student - they would of course obey the wishes of the Smith. It was a rather funny paradox, when Rose thought about it. It occurred to her after she saw the third Goblin bowing to Albus, they would treat him equally because that was the order of The Smith. 

As time went on, Albus would notice no difference in the goblins at school. Any new arrivals would defer to him and he would give them the same spiel about being equal. And they all accepted it, except for one thing. The goblins would no longer call him Albus, but Smith. Dawnsfirstbloom was the one exception, she was already his close friend and after she called him Smith once, he gave her such a look that she burst out into laughter and silently agreed never to do it again.

* * *

**Pertaining to the Nature of Smiths**

_I should offer some deeper explanation for my readers on how exactly this whole Smith thing works. My beta expressed some queries about them that I thought should be addressed to my audience as a whole. Some of this is explained more in depth in my other story, the one that is basically a prequel to this one: Harry Potter and the Final Year._

_The whole idea of Smiths started for me when I considered what was the real nature of Goblin Made Items. In the Deathly Hallows, Phineas Nigellus Black says of goblin silver that it imbibes "only that which strengthens it". How on earth does that work!? How does an inanimate object decide what things will strengthen it and what will weaken it? This is higher order decision making. For instance, the Sword of Gryffindor has lain in a felt lined, glass case for years. How does it know that being soft and felty is not good for it? But even in saying that, it actually wouldn’t be bad for the handle to be soft and comfortable to grip, so how can it make the choice between what is good for the blade is not good for the handle and vice versa? And another matter, the sword imbued the blade with the power of the Basilisk venom, how did it know not to transfer that power below the hilt?_

_This led my thoughts down other avenues, two particular streams to be exact._

_The first was that Goblin Made Items were rare in the books. If everything that the goblins made were Goblin Made then that didn’t make sense. The thought occurred to me in a parallel, not everything the wizards employed were made by wizards - their shoes, the cloth for their clothes, etc. So there is a big difference between made by humans and Wizard Made. So if the same were true for goblins, then why were the Goblin Made Items so rare? Only one of two choices presented itself to me. Either they were terribly hard to make, or that only a few goblins could make Goblin Made stuff. And that fits in with how wizards are a small subset of humanity that can use magic - perhaps goblins were the same._

_This didn’t fully explain, through how these inanimate objects could make decisions about what properties were good for them. As Mr. Weasley says, ‘never trust anything if you can’t see where it keeps its brains.’_

_One of the things that is firmly established in the JKR books is the existence of souls. It’s all through the books, from the appearance of Harry’s parents when he is battling Voldemort in the graveyard, to meeting Dumbledore when Harry ‘dies’, to the whole nature of Horcruxes. Souls are a definite thing. If so then that could explain a lot. There are quite a few things in the Harry Potter world in which the presence of a fragment of someone's soul could make a lot of things much clearer, far easier to explain. Because if a soul could be split for evil intent, for a horcrux, surely there might be a way to give a piece away for a good reason._

_One of the chief employments for a fragment of a soul being in Goblin Made Items._

_Goblin magics are alluded to in the books, but not explained over much. From all evidence, whatever the nature of this magic is, it is not very prolific or powerful; otherwise why would the goblins be so desperate to be allowed to use wands? In my story, I chose to downplay any of these magics the goblins are supposed to possess, because, not only did that seem to be the way it was, but because it also fits into the whole framework that JKR established._

_It is a particular beef of mine when authors/tv writers/etc make non-human races so one dimensional: Vulcans are smart (just because they are logical); Klingons are Warriors (just because they are aggressive); etc. Goblins in the world of Harry Potter are greedy, money obsessed and clever with the truth. Yes is that right? How can a whole society be like that? It’s like Klingons: I’ve seen Klingon spaceships, Klingon food - that must mean for every Klingon warrior we see there must also be Klingon farmers, engineers, factory workers, hell, even Klingon janitors. As with goblins, the only goblins that Harry ever properly meets are ones who are the direct employees of a bank. A bank! Do you think that if aliens landed tomorrow and took a load of bankers away with them for study that they would get an accurate cross-section of the Human Race?_

_In my story I wanted to correct some of the injustices that I perceived in the JKR books. Some of them were simple things like the way Hagrid was treated, living in a rude hut. But the goblins were a major thing. From how their bank was half destroyed, first by Harry breaking out and then when Voldemort went berserk after he found his horcrux gone. To their very nature as almost second class citizens in this wizarding society. I was determined to make them every bit the equal of humans, every bit - if not equal in the wizarding world, at least equal to humans in character. They should be allowed to be as smart, as stupid, as generous, as greedy, as loving and as evil as humans are capable of._

_So along those lines, do you really think that goblins would be so stupid that they wouldn’t have at least tried to use wands? There would have been enough wands around throughout their history - from the spoils of war, to those from wizards so in debt to them, to any number of ways - that you don’t think they could have gotten their hands on one and at least tried it out? For instance, if humanity suddenly found out wands and magic were real, but they could only be used by blue-eyed people, do you think that would stop brown eyed people - every single brown-eyed person - from ever picking up a wand and trying at least once? No it wouldn’t, I would certainly try (I’d borrow a wand from my blue-eyed wife, open one of her magic textbooks and at least give it a go). So if they did have a go at wands, why didn't any of them ever work for them? We know they didn't, otherwise why would they be after wizards to teach them the 'secret' of wand lore?_

_Those thoughts led me down the path to saying that if goblins are the equivalent of humans, and if wizards are a tiny percentage of the human population, then surely goblins have an equal percentage of goblin wizards - that's how we have Dawnsfirstbloom. And thus, of course, that is why wands never worked for them - the right goblins never tried them out. If goblin wizards were such a small percentage of the population the chances would be slight._

_The same thing (being a small percentage of the population) might be true of those goblins who can make Goblin Made Items. To give them a label, I called them Smiths because smiths are makers of things. And if my principal holds true from before, there must be the converse that if there are goblin Smiths, then there must be human Smiths as well. These Smiths will not necessarily be drawn from the ranks of the wizarding percentage of the populations either. Just like Wizards, Smiths have their own particular skills and abilities._

_So the thing that makes a Smith a Smith is that they have large souls. My beta jokingly said, ‘so selflessness is their mystical superpower?’ And I had to reply that her thought was exactly correct. We all know that there are some people in the world around us who are truly selfless, generous of spirit. They are rare, but when found, they are special. I don’t think that it is much of a stretch to see that Harry Potter from the books was a person like this. Dumbledore himself once said that Harry was ‘a truly selfless person.’ Yes he could get angry, yes he had emotions, but when he was pushed into things he would often put thoughts of others far over his own. Making him into one of these Smiths makes sense. And it fits in with some other stuff. His Peverell ancestors for instance. They crafted items that have lasted throughout the centuries. What must the Invisibility Cloak be, other than a Goblin Made Item - or as I refer to them, a Soul Item. It has never worn or decreased in its power throughout the many years that it has been used by the Peverells or Potters._

_So you will find some Smiths in the Wizarding world, but there will be more in the human population as a whole. The goblins, being the absolute pragmatists that I have taken them to be (their society at least, not every member) have seen in the past that some of their number can not only make these special items, but that they are also selfless by nature. Those few will make decisions based not on what is best for them, or best for their tribe, or even best for their clan, no, it will be for what is best for their society as a whole. Of course they made them their leaders._

_Albus and James (and Lily too) are Smiths, honorary ones. This comes from my other story wherein Harry was awarded the title honorarily at first, because of the great service he did to goblinkind by making it possible for the first of their number to attend Hogwarts. To deepen the gift, his line were to be made Smiths till the third generation, hence his children’s status._

* * *

**Author’s Note: So here is another chapter. I’m sorry about all the explanation at the end. Skip over it if you find it boring, that’s why I put it in italics. I have said things along those lines before in fragments throughout my stories and also in comments made to questions posed by reviewers. After Anja, my wonderful beta, asked some questions herself, I decided to expand on my thoughts and explain myself fully.**

**Speaking of Anja, not only has she been a wonderful beta, but she has betan a few chapters together. I do hope that I can get them out a bit more regularly than one a month. Hopefully I would like to aim for one every three weeks or so. I’ll see how it goes - I don’t want to wear her out as I’m extremely happy with the job that she has been doing.**

**In this chapter, reference is made once again to the crocheted manticore that Rose made for Dawnsfirstbloom. I just had to give it a go, making one for myself. No patterns exist, or none that I’ve been able to find at least, so I had to make one up my self (just as Rose had to do). And for those who want to know what it might look like … well, here is a sneaky pic.  
**   



	31. The Last Adventure of the Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes finish their exams and 'relax' in the last week left to them of their first year at Hogwarts.
> 
> How good it is to have School with now schooling; Albus displays all the traits for which he was sorted; Rose is involved in a wandering monster encounter; Scorpius is involved even more.
> 
> _Professor Longbottom jumped in surprise when he saw the first year’s gathered at the end of the greenhouse._
> 
> _“Oh, um, sorry kids, didn’t see you all there. I didn't expect anyone here today, you know there are no more lessons don't you?”_

**Note: If I was writing about Roslyn and Dawnsfirstbloom and Alburt and Scorpion finishing their exams then it would all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec, Dawnsfirstbloom is mine, all mine BWHA HA HA!**

**... but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

The main banner and all chapter images have been painted by myself.

* * *

 

**Chapter 31: The Last Adventure of the Year**

 

_**Note: This story is rated Mature for a reason. Up till now it has been fairly PG, except for some mild invective here and there. But this chapter sees some of the reasons for it’s rating. So here is an extra warning to my readers that this chapter contains some violence and nastily meant profanity.** _

 

After the excitement of the first day with the goblin Grandmothers, the rest of the exams were almost relaxing. Well, they were for Rose and, surprisingly enough, for Dawnsfirstbloom too. Rose was so confident of her own abilities and knowledge that she even kept up with her early morning runs and workouts. Getting out of the castle and away from the stress and desperation that came off the other students in waves and seemed to permeate into the very stonework of the castle itself, led to Dawnsfirstbloom accompanying her. 

Dawnsfirstbloom was also sanguine about the upcoming exams because the main source of stress for her was now over and gone, resolved as well as it could be. The Grandmothers had been impressed with her and her work and also by her choice of friend. The way the Grandmothers had picked up on how she made the rose for Rose and how Rose had made the manticore for her, had been so special. They had approved, and by extension had approved of her - everything else after that was nothing by comparison.

As for her studies, she was not the best student, but she was far from the worst either. And she had one big thing in her favour: she was best friends with Rose. Being so meant a lot more hours spent in the library or studying rather than, say, reading Witch Weekly or talking about boys or musicians or whatever. As a result, she was quite prepared for all her exams. So she ran and exercised with Rose, which she had done a few times, scattered throughout the year. It was a good way to avoid the stress of the castle and also to catch up on her notes by using a Rose Reader that her friend had charmed for her.

It amused Dawnsfirstbloom how the exam time brought a basic characteristic of Rose’s behaviour to the fore. Rose was so focused upon herself and the exams that she walked through a sea of other desperate students like an icebreaker through the frozen Arctic wastes. Rose would sit down or mill around in the lines before exams or wherever, and there would be a parade of people asking her about spells or potion ingredients, with a ‘do you think this will be in the test?’ or a ‘how does such and such go?’ Rose was never dismissive and almost always invariably polite.

Dawnsfirstbloom didn’t know why she was surprised, she shouldn’t have been - Rose was always generous with her time and her abilities, it was just … Dawnsfirstbloom knew Rose wasn’t really paying attention to the supplicants for her knowledge. It was almost like she treated it as yet another way to revise. Someone would ask her how to do a particular spell and Rose would show them. She'd even slow down the wand movement for them and ensure that they got the pronunciation correct. Then they'd be gone and the next one would be there, asking the next question of her. Dawnsfirstbloom bet, though, if she’d have asked Rose who it was that she’d just seen, Rose would have had no idea whatsoever. 

And it wasn't just first years either. After what happened with James when he was studying with the Slytherin girl in the common room, hopefuls kept asking about their second year spells too. She usually shut them down though, politely of course, as being distractions from what she actually needed to know.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Rose knew that she’d passed all of her tests, especially the practical portions, with how the examiners treated her. In fact, with her examination in Transfiguration, her ability with non-verbal spells had garnered her an extra ten percent per spell she demonstrated. By her reckoning, when she left the exam room she couldn’t have scored below 160%

Then everything was over, as suddenly as it began. The exams were done with and it was like the entire population of Hogwarts breathed a collective sigh of relief. There was a big feast on the Friday night to celebrate the end of the exams and to thank the examiners for all their work. And it had been work, not just standing around watching students perform spells - not with underage wizards having to do spells that some of them barely knew, under conditions of high stress. The examining board had learnt over the course of the years to have more examiners than they needed: most would be there to test the students, but the remainder were to stop any misfired spell work or to stop runaway potions. 

But everything wasn’t over - gloriously there was still a week to go. The weekend after the exams was a chance to laze around and glorify in the early summer sun. Pick up games of quidditch sprung up all over the weekend. At one stage Rose saw (and played in) a game that had ten or so Chasers to each side, no Beaters (thankfully) and a Keeper for each hoop. Adding to the chaos was a ‘human snitch’ - which was basically just a giant game of tag - with those kids who were the Seekers weaving in and out of the Chasers trying to catch the snitch and in turn become the snitch themselves. And yes, there were multiple quaffles.

Then came the last week of school, still with that same, glorious summer sun, but now with very little to study and, furthermore, teachers who had a distinct lack of desire to teach anything. Some students were a bit more diligent, especially those who were going into their OWL and NEWT years. And everybody did have at least one lesson per subject where the teachers assigned any tasks or assignments or further reading to be done over the course of the holidays. But most of the lessons were very relaxed and poorly attended. For instance, after the Monday’s worth of lessons in which Slughorn allocated the holiday work, every day thereafter was one long party in the potion rooms: with kids of all years coming and going as they pleased, guests from outside of Hogwarts popping in and out, and at the centre of it all sat Slughorn, presiding over everything.

Rose attended most of her lessons at first, she even went to a History of magic lesson. She had a suspicion as to how it would be before she entered, and she was proven to be correct. Binns had turned up to teach, and, although the class was largely empty, kept on talking, even after all the students had snuck away. No one bothered to return after his Monday lessons.

Things changed a bit for Rose after the Wednesday morning, when they normally had their herbology lesson. The first years trooped down to the greenhouses to find Professor Longbottom already there, tending to a plant with big, beautiful purple flowers that would have looked gorgeous, except for the fact that it was trying to whip him with its stems. He barely noticed the arrival of the first years, due to the plant he was only barely beginning to subdue. A cough from a student behind Rose, alerted him to their presence and he jumped in surprise when he saw the first year’s gathered at the end of the greenhouse.

“Oh, um, sorry kids, didn’t see you all there. I didn't expect anyone here today, you know there are no more lessons don't you?”

Rose heard Finnegan behind her say, “told you Ayesha, let's go.”

Rose turned to see the two friends walking off and so were quite a few others. When she turned back it was to see that Dawnsfirstbloom had walked up to Professor Longbottom.

“What are you doing, Professor?”

“Oh, it’s just … I have a lot of work to do getting everything prepared for next year, is all. I've got to repot all of these,” he said, indicating a bench with rows of seedlings, “and there's even more in some of the other greenhouses. I just don't know how I'm going to get it all done?”

“Um Professor,” Dawnsfirstbloom began.

Professor Longbottom went, “hmm”, in reply, but he wasn’t really listening, not taking his eyes off the mountains of work ahead of him.

“But do you want some help?”

He snapped his attention around to look at the goblin, the expression on his face was priceless - it had obviously never occurred to him to ask for help.

“Are you sure? That would be wonderful, Miss Bloom. Most of the plants in here are for you first years anyway, well second years I suppose you'll be, so if you give us a hand, all you'll be doing is getting a head start on your work for next year.”

That settled it for Rose, the chance to get ahead on her work was something she would not pass over. “Professor, we can help you out more than just this, you know. If you write us a permission note, then we can help you out for the rest of the week if you want.” 

The look on his face said it all.

From behind her she heard Albus say, “hang on a sec, I'll be right back. I’ll just go and get Scorp, he loves all this plant stuff.” 

Rose bit back her immediate and knee jerk response to that information, it was much easier to hold her tongue when the object of her ire was not right in front of her. And funnily enough, when Albus returned with Scorpius and a few of his other friends, Rose still managed to be civil.

How could she not, when she saw the way Scorpius was behaving.

The Gryffindors shared this class with the Puffers, so she had never seen Scorpius in herbology - the Slytherins shared it with the Claws. Included in the number that had returned with Albus was that tall, black Slytherin boy. He stood next to Rose and greeted her with a, “Good morning, Miss Weasley.” He chuckled, looking beyond her, “He sure does love this stuff doesn't he?”

Rose had to concur, and it's why she couldn't be mad at Scorpius. He had paid her almost no heed when he’d arrived, breezing right past her with only a nod of his head, going up to stand right next to Dawnsfirstbloom and began to help her pot. As soon as he did so, engaging her in conversation. “I didn’t know you liked this too?”

“Oh yeah, there's nuffin comes close to this in the ‘ole school. Not till we get to magical creatures of course, ‘ey ‘ow about I get the seedlings out of the pot and you prep the pots, then we can both plant them?”

Rose wasn't feeling anything negative towards Scorpius at that moment. How could she, when he was obviously so happy. And there was something else too, something about him, and she was surprised when it occurred to her what it was: he was relaxed. He normally held himself so stiffly, his bearing every bit as prim and proper and upright as his manners and diction normally were. She wondered why, for a moment, as she watched him get his hands dirty with the potting mix. Then she came to a sudden realisation. Usually she wasn't so perceptive, especially with Scorpius as the object of her contemplation. But she understood that he was relaxed because he felt safe and happy doing what he loved and being amongst friends. Albus joined the pair and joined in their conversation, handing Scorpius a pot.

“Come on,” she nudged the tall boy beside her, “If we don't get a wriggle on we’ll miss out on all the … fun?” She said the last questioningly and it made the boy beside her laugh.

“Oh, this is fun is it? I had always wondered. Please lead on, Miss Weasley, we should not delay our participation in the pleasures of potting for one moment longer.”

So it was with a smile that they joined their friends at the potting bench. The production line that Dawn and Scorpius and Albus had started, looked like it was working well, so they decided to copy them. Rose looked over and saw that they had been joined by some random Hufflepuff girl, based upon her tie, and she joined in too. 

They passed the time pleasantly enough, but Rose only barely participated in the conversation going on around her. She was distracted by something, something that was bugging her. The tall, black boy with the deep, rich, slightly Jamaican accent had used the phrase ‘Miss Weasley’ to address her twice and all Rose took it for was manners and politeness. So why did it bother her so much when Scorpius called her Miss Weasley in almost the same tone and almost exactly the same manner?

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Professor Longbottom kept popping over with little bits of pertinent information, teaching them occasionally and generally encouraging and praising their efforts.

“This is such a help for me, you don't know. Everyone is going to be so prepared for next year.”

It was very true, because they didn't just stay in the first year greenhouses. Over the course of the next few days they moved from one greenhouse to another. In the relaxed atmosphere, with no pressure that anything had to be studied or learnt for an exam, the kids actually ended up learning quite a lot.

It wasn't just them, their group of first years were joined by students from other years. For instance, from Thursday on, all the NEWT herbology class joined them.

And it wasn't just students either.

On Thursday afternoon, Headmistress McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey and the examiner that she was friends with, joined them for afternoon tea. Rose had learnt that ‘Pomona’ was in fact Professor Sprout, the herbology professor who had taught her parents. The three old ladies chatted together, sipping their tea on chairs and a table that they had conjured out of thin air. Once she’d finished, Professor Sprout came round, inspecting and commenting upon their work. Rose smiled to see the nervous way in which Uncle Neville was anticipating her judgement, hoping that the older witch would find favour with what he was doing. _We never grow too old,_ Rose supposed, _that we grow out of wanting to please those whom we respect._

On Friday, when they came down to the greenhouses, it was to find a large marquee set up on the grass in front of them. It's purpose was explained when, after he’d had a good enough sleep in, Slughorn moved the constant party that he'd been having in the dungeons, out into the open air for the day.

So they spent that last day rather pleasantly: eating and potting and socializing and weeding and eating - all through the late morning and well into the afternoon.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Rose and Dawnsfirstbloom spent the last part of the day collecting seeds from a plant that was proving to be particularly difficult. They would go to collect the seeds and it would jerk back the pod out of their hands. Dealing with the recalcitrant shrub meant that they were late back to the castle as a consequence, not late enough to miss any of the end of year feast, but too late to be able to take a shower and change for dinner before hand.

Professor McGonagall stood up to open the proceedings. “Welcome, one and all, to the farewell feast. If my predecessor taught me anything, it was not to address those whose minds are elsewhere. And funnily enough, for once at one of these sort of feasts, it is not on food. There are the small matters of the Quidditch and House cups to be awarded.”

At this there was a whole lot of cheering, especially loud from either ends of the hall where resided the Slytherins and Gryffindors. Slytherins who knew they had the most house points and Gryffindor because they had the consolation prize of winning at quidditch.

“This year we have been treated to more quidditch than any could have possibly foreseen. Miss Wood, would you please step forward.” Loud Cheers from Gryffindor as she stood and approached the Head table, a chant of ‘Olivia, Olivia’ had even started up by the time she reached it. “Gryffindor not only won the quidditch cup,” McGonagall held up the cup and before them all ‘Gryffindor 2017’ became etched upon the side. “But this year we were all entranced with a new competition.” McGonagall reached down behind her and drew forth another trophy. There was a laugh and applause from the students as they saw it. Whereas the regular cup was a fairly standard ‘cup’ style trophy as those things went, this one was quite different.

It was a cup, at least. There was some sort of silver ‘cup’ at it’s heart, but it was twisted and spiralled slightly - like the horn of an animal. And it was set on a fairly standard base: jet black, round with silver trimmings, and brass crests ready to have the winning House inscribed upon them each year. The most unusual thing about it however, were the three snitches attached around the cup. Three, obviously, for the number of seekers, Rose thought. And they were still live, somehow, because as Mcgonagall held the cup up, the wings of the snitches fluttered like they normally did.

“Miss Wood, you not only led your team to victory in both competitions, but your policies, on the amount of reserves you have, led to far more students being allowed to be involved in the games. An innovation that has long been overdue. For this I have to award Gryffindor 30 points.”

There was cheering from the Gryffindor table, but only scattered applause from the other tables and downright consternation from the Slytherin table. Everyone knew how the House points stood, this late in the term. Gryffindor were a very close second to Slytherin, a few more points would get them there. The thirty points got them closer, but not quite there. It was not uncommon for the awarding of points, especially by the HeadMistress, or Headmaster, at the final feast to tip the balance.

“Miss Rose Weasley, would you stand.” There were gasps, this could be it, as Gryffindor held their breath. “Both you and Captain Wood were responsible for a totally new position, that of Seeker-Chaser, one that I dare say may revolutionise the game, for your efforts, I award Gryffindor twenty points.”

There was actually a cry of dismay from the Gryffindor table, as most of the students groaned with disappointment. It soon was drowned out by the cheers from the Slytherins.

“Yes,” Professor McGonagall said as Olivia returned to her seat and Rose sat down, “As much as I would have liked my final year to go out with my House winning, it is not to be.”

Before she could say anything else, there was a loud voice which yelled, “Hell yeah!” Everyone wondered who it was till Albus stood up at the Gryffindor table, where he had been sitting with most of his family.

“Mister Potter!” McGonagall barked, “Explain yourself.”

“I just realised, Miss, that each year I’m in the winning House.” There was laughter but it stopped when he rounded the end of the Gryffindor table and said, “See you later losers.” He said the same at the HufflePuff table, but when he came to Ravenclaw he paused, “See you next year,” The scowls at what they presumed he was going to say disappeared from a lot of the Claw faces as they began to whisper to each other over what he meant. He finally reached the Slytherin table and sat down next to his first year friends, the boys around him cheering him on.

McGonagall waited for the noise to die down before she started speaking again. In a stern voice she began. “For that egregious display in front of the entire student body, I am inclined to deduct points from you. As you are now seated at the Slytherin table, I must, perforce, take the points from them: Fifty Points From Slytherin.” She tried to maintain her stern visage, but with the last there was a barely detectable note of concealed joy.

There were cheers from the Gryffindor table, but the Slytherins were not so happy; a lot of them turned angry faces Albus’ way. He waited for the noise to die down and when the Headmistress appeared to be about to speak, he repeated his performance from before; loudly crying out and standing abruptly.

McGonagall changed what she was about to say and do, turning her attention back to Albus’ new disruption. “Mr Potter, that is enough!”

“Oh no Miss, I’m going to do this again and again and again. You won’t have any choice - if you want to be fair - except to take House Points away from each table I sit at until Slytherin is in its rightful place once more.”

The Slytherins, especially the older students whom had never warmed so much to the first year who was only in their house part of the time, now were muttering appreciatively. There were a few cries of, ‘yeah’, and ‘that’s right’ as the Slytherin students turned their gaze upon the Headmistress.

She regarded them in silence, but eventually let out a breath of air, shaking her head. “You Potter boys … It appears you have me over a barrel, Mr. Potter. How very clever of you, or should I say, how very Slytherin. I cannot cancel the House Points that I deducted, it doesn’t work that way,” there were groans from the Slytherins, “but, for the most outrageous display of pure Slytheriness - if that’s a word - I award Slytherin … oh hell, let’s make it a hundred points.” There was a massive cheer from the Slytherin table that drowned out her last words. “Not that it matters anyway, what they win by if they win.”

McGonagall sat back down. She was going to give her final speech at the end of the meal anyway, there was no more need to speak any further now. She waved her wand, and that must have been some signal because the empty plates and dishes in front of them all were suddenly full of food that did, indeed, smell delicious. “Eat up, and I shall deliver my final address when we have finished.” But the students were hardly listening as they dived into the food.

Rose wasn't that hungry. She’d had plenty to eat all day at Slughorn's party, but she did feel dirty and wanted to clean herself up. Dawnsfirstbloom had eaten much less than her, being far more invested in the herbology. So when Rose said she might go and freshen herself up and wanted to know if Dawnsfirstbloom would do so as well, Dawnsfistbloom said “Nah, I'm too ‘ungry. I'll ‘ave a shower before bed, but don't let me stop you.”

So Rose scooted out of her seat, out of the Great Hall and was on her way up to her dorm. She would have, except that a few steps up the main staircase she came to an abrupt halt, because she saw that they had moved to a most unhelpful position for the hurry she was in. But she knew a shortcut, a secret passage that would take her to the Astronomy Tower. She could go up a floor there and double back.

She raced down the corridor and flung aside the tapestry that concealed the entrance to the secret passage, but what she saw inside caused her to come to an even more abrupt halt than she had before.

The passage was very large, as far as secret passages went, and it wasn't so secret. It was used by anyone who wanted a quick way from the Great Hall to the Astronomy Tower, and as such was well known. It was fairly dark in the passage, a solitary torch flickered away, casting eerie shadows over the scene.

And what a scene it was. There were three older boys, sixth years at least, but probably seventh. They were all big units: two were big and solid with it, but one was tall and rangy. One of the solid guys, who had unkempt dark hair, was closer to her and to the entrance. The tall rangy one was standing in front of the other big lug who was holding up a fourth, much smaller figure. She had no idea who any of them were except for the much younger boy, who, when she looked closer, was being physically restrained by the bigger boy. Rose didn't have to guess who it was; the blond, nearly white hair that hung over and obscured his face, told her exactly who it was.

The three older boys had looked her way as soon as she’d burst in, but had frozen in place just as she had come to her sudden halt. The closest boy to her was the first to break the spell, saying, “you can turn around and fuck right off.”

That got Rose moving again, “what's going on here then?” She demanded

The tall rangy boy stepped away from Scorpius repeating his mate’s words, “you heard him, fuck off Weasley.”

Rose wasn't guarded enough with her emotions, her surprise must have been obvious, even in the dimly lit passage.

“Yeah, we know who you are: a bossy redheaded little bint. You could be nothing else than a bloody Weasley. We don't give a fuck who you are, we just want you fucking gone.”

Rose ignored the boy’s words and moved forward; she might have problems with Scorpius sometimes but this was just plain wrong. “I'm not leaving here without him. Scorpius are you ok?”

She didn't get past the closest boy. As she got near to him he said, “I told you to push off,” and he gave her a shove that pushed her back several paces and set her on her behind. The boy turned away, and it was his dismissal of her that got to her more than his shove. She jumped up and dashed the few steps to the boy to launch a kick at his head. It was enough to knock his head sideways, whipping his lank hair about his face, and caused him to stagger a step or two to his left.

Rose hadn't done much fighting this year, beyond giving James or Albus a punch on the arm anytime they were being particularly cheeky. No, the most she’d done was fought with that older boy at the beginning of the year, the one who'd been sitting in her seat. He had been bigger and stronger than her, but not a good fighter. Furthermore she’d had him exactly where she wanted him when she'd accosted him. Beyond that, no real fighting, but she had kept up her martial arts training on her own and her fitness too.

What all of that had done was to give Rose an exaggerated sense of her own power. What she didn't realise was that when it came down to it, despite all her training, she was still only a twelve year old girl (just) and a smallish one at that. Had she aimed somewhere lower and not done that flashy head kick, had she gone for somewhere more vulnerable where she could have struck with more power, then things would have been different: she could possibly have taken one of them out of the fight right at the beginning.

As it was, the boy whipped around - he was big and fast - and blocked Rose’s next kick. He had no particular skill beyond fast reflexes, coupled with a powerful frame, but it was enough. She went to punch him and he just swatted it out of the air, then, reversing the swing of his arm, backhanded her across the face. 

The powerful blow sent her flying and she found herself once more upon the floor. There was a yell. Her head was still ringing and her vision was blurred, but she vaguely saw Scorpius pull himself from the grasp of the boy who had been restraining him. With a, “No! Rose!” He charged towards her, but he hadn't been counting on the tall rangy boy stood in his way. The older boy had been watching the fight with Rose, but at the yell spun around, using the momentum of his turn to propel his fist into the stomach of Scorpius.

Scorpius folded up like a cheap deck chair and fell to the ground. The tall rangy boy turned back around to the black haired boy who had fought with Rose, only to see him training a wand upon her supine form. He leapt forward and slapped the wand hand down, away from Rose

“No spells I said, remember? They can trace spells, connect them to us, but they can't trace bruises back to our fists.”

The boy who’d fought with Rose accepted the reprimand with bad grace, but didn’t take it out on his friend. Instead he turned on Rose again and yelled down at her. “All you Weasleys are just as bad as the Death Eater spawn. ‘Let’s all forgive them,’” he said in a mocking way, “We can’t punish the Death Eaters, it’s cruel to have Dementors in Azkaban.”

He finished with his mocking tone and shouted down at her, spittle flying from his mouth in his anger. “They murdered my dad for no better reason than he was a Muggle lover. Didn’t know my mum was pregnant, or they’d have killed her too. They’re the reason Bones has no aunt and no grandmother.” He waved his arm back behind him, indicating either of the two boys, Rose couldn’t tell which one he meant. “And you just want to forgive him and forget what his dad and his whole fucking evil family did? I ought to …” And he went to kick Rose, but the rangy boy held him back.

“No, you idiot,” he spun the other boy around. “No one cares about the Death Eater,” flicking his head backwards to indicate Scorpius, still lying flat upon the ground, “but if you hurt a Weasley, there’ll be hell to pay.”

The boy who’d shouted at her tore his shoulder from his mate’s grip, but he didn’t approach Rose again. Instead he said, “let’s go,” grumpily and stomped off, past Rose, giving the supine form of Scorpius a kick as he went.

The rangy boy’s frown turned into a grin, “yeah, think we’ve had enough fun, come on Bones, let’s go.” He followed the first boy out of the passage and the last of the boys came after, the one who’d been initially holding Scorpius. As he went past, he too gave Scorpius a vicious kick and then they were gone.

Without the shouting of the older boys, the passage was now unnaturally quiet. Quiet enough that the muffled sobbing of Scorpius was now audible.

Rose sat up further and pulled herself to her feet. She staggered slightly - her head was still ringing from the blow she’d been dealt. Wobbling on her feet, she stumbled over towards Scorpius and knelt down behind him. He was curled up in a ball on the ground, his arms up, covering his head and face. She reached out a tentative hand to touch his shoulder, whispering in the face of the oppressive silence, “Scorpius?”

He flinched away from her and she could hear him trying to stop his crying.

“Scorpius, are you OK?”

There was an almost imperceptible, “go away Rose.”

“Come on Scorpius, we have to tell a teacher.”

That produced a reaction, but not the one that Rose was suspecting. Scorpius shot out of his curled up position. “No! You can’t. If you tell a teacher, they’ll hurt,” but he caught his tongue and didn’t finish.

Even though Rose was desperate to know whom else they had threatened to hurt, Scorpius was obviously not going to say.

Scorpius’ eyes were red from crying and his face was the same, but that was it. There were no bruises or marks that Rose could see and she was initially surprised by their absence. She thought she could have convinced him to tell a teacher when she saw the state of him, but there was nothing to show. Then she remembered, realising the perfidy of it, that the bullies had only struck Scorpius where it wouldn’t be seen; they had been clever enough to not leave any obvious evidence of their misdeeds.

Rose again reached, tentatively, towards him, but he flinched away again and turned his head, unable to meet her eyes anymore. She’d paused when he had shied away, but her hand still stayed outstretched. She wanted to offer any solace she could to this wretched figure in front of her.

She touched his shoulder again. “Scorpius we should tell …”

That was all she got out before he wrenched himself away, even more violently this time, from her and her touch. He was facing away from her now, having rolled over to be on his hands and knees. “We won’t tell anyone.” He said as he tried to stand. “It’s over now, it’s the last day of school and they’re leaving. They won’t hurt me again. So leave it alone.” He managed to get himself to his feet, mainly by dint of holding onto the wall for most of it.

He finally stood with a grunt and took one step before he bent over and wretched.

Rose couldn’t stay silent, at his obvious misery. “Scorpius?” she said in a pleading way.

But he was facing away from her and didn’t respond, the tears that he’d been managing to hold back returning at the pain of walking and vomiting. She could hear the tears in his voice as he harshly said, “leave me alone.”

He staggered away, trying to leave in as much hurry as he could, but he was unable to manage more than a few steps at a time. She didn’t know why he was being so obstinate in refusing her help, not understanding that the pain of his beating, was as nothing to a young boy such as Scorpius, as the embarrassment in being seen to be weak in front of a girl he liked and respected.

He managed to reach the far tapestry, pulling it aside, when he paused and stopped. Quietly, so that Rose only just caught his words, he said, “Don’t tell Albus.”

“What?” Said Rose, caught off guard by the incongruity of his request and slightly distracted by the sour smell of the vomit that was beginning to fill the enclosed space. 

He turned back to her angrily, and almost spat out. “And don’t be sneaky, like telling someone else so that it gets back to him.” Rose was looking at him stunned: stunned by his harsh words and his demands. “Don’t tell anyone. Promise!”

She couldn’t do anything else in the face of his pain and misery, and the anxiety of his best friend finding out, so she nodded, letting out a feeble, “yes.”

He gave her a look, which Rose had absolutely no idea what it even began to mean, and before she could say or do anything more, with a swish of fabric, the tapestry fell into place behind him and he was gone.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

All through her shower, through getting clothed and coming back to the Great Hall, Rose warred with her conscience. The encounter with the bullies kept playing in her mind - her beating at their hands almost forgotten compared to the savagery of their words and what they’d done to Scorpius. She’d also had a horrific realisation, from when Scorpius had said ‘it was nearly over’ - was it the first time it had happened or not? She couldn’t help but feel that she’d walked in on the last of an ongoing situation. 

But it was her promise of not telling anyone about it that she was fighting herself over. The only way bullies flourished was in silence and secrecy. She had to tell someone so that they would be punished.

… but she’d promised Scorpius!

When she re-entered the Great Hall, she couldn’t see Scorpius anywhere, and she scanned the length of either side of the Slytherin table. She looked over the other tables, just in case he had decided to sit somewhere else. Her eye was caught, halfway along the Ravenclaw table, by the tall, rangy boy who’d commanded the others, back in the passage. He was staring right at her. His hair was combed down, his robes were neat, looking like nothing untoward had ever happened to him in his life ever - let alone beating up a first year not twenty minutes ago. If she’d expected him to have a worried expression - concerned that she might tell on him and the other bullies - she was sadly disappointed. 

Far from it. He had a such a look of assured smugness that got right under Rose’s skin. In the seeing of him, sitting there so self-satisfied, she almost broke her promise. She looked over to the teacher's table and tensed herself to rush up and tell on the boys. Only half a second later her resolve collapsed - she couldn't tell, She had _promised_ Scorpius!

She shouldn’t have, but she glanced back at him. He knew that she wouldn’t tell, and the smirk that came to his face made her blood boil. His smugness had become even more vile and conceited.

She stomped over to the table and threw herself down onto the bench. Dawnsfirstbloom looked up at her, frowning at Rose’s demeanor. “What’s wrong Rose.g.f.?”

Rose looked to her friend, she so wanted to tell her but she couldn't - SHE’D PROMISED SCORPIUS! She could have almost screamed.

“Nothing.” She managed to get out, between gritted teeth.

She pulled a bowl over to herself, loaded it with apple pie and spooned some ice cream into it. Lifting the spoon up to her mouth, it was just in time to have it all disappear from in front of her - to cap it all off, she'd now missed dessert.

Rose slammed the spoon down on the table in front of her, livid with the world. She felt a touch on her arm and looked round to see the concerned face of her little goblin friend. “Are you really Ok?”

Rose forced a smile to her lips and gritted teeth once more, suppressing what she dearly wanted to say. Nothing frustrated Rose more than knowing something and not being able to tell someone when she wanted to tell them. It got to her even more, because it was Scorpius-bloody-Malfoy who told her not to say.

Rose was saved from any further lies, something she wasn't very good at, by the Headmistress who stood up and began to talk.

“So our last dinner at Hogwarts for this school year. I’d like you all to join me, in thanking the House-elves for all their hard work in keeping us fed and comfortably housed throughout the year.” McGonagall started clapping and everybody joined her, except … Rose craned her neck to look as she started clapping. She’d noticed him before, sitting by that rangy boy on the Ravenclaw table. She found him again - Fairclough - and yep, she knew it, he wasn't clapping. Neither was that bully sitting next to him.

Rose had some vague thought, that maybe she could tell on him for that. She looked away from the two boys and up towards McGonagall just in time to see Stephen appear in the air behind her. He must have started a star jump, just before he apperated, because, as he appeared behind and slightly above McGonagall, his legs and arms snapped into position. He drifted upwards, obviously from the momentum of his jump, at the peak of his movement, hovered in the air for a moment before he disappeared once more. But not for long. With a loud crack, that reverberated around the Great Hall, four House-elves appeared on each house table.

Steven of course was at the head of the Slytherin table. That made Rose look. She bent her head down, close to the table, so that she could see the length of it, and there she was - Blinky, shaking slightly with nerves, but still standing tall at the end of her table anyway: bless her little Griffy heart.

Applause had started to die away earlier, but had increased once Steven had appeared. With the arrival of all four, the applause had doubled. The four House-elves took their bows and with a crack they were gone.

As the applause started to die away again James said. “Hey, Fredo! Anything like that ever happened before?”

“Not that I know of, cuz.”

Rose had an insight as to why it hadn't happened before that the others did not, as the remarks of Trevor came back to her. He’d said that the methods that the House-elves of Hogwarts should employ were ones of education. This must be one of the first steps down that long path - no longer should they conduct their work unnoticed and unappreciated, _like slaves,_ Rose thought. From now on, they should be acknowledged and thanked for a job well done like any good workman would.

McGonagall spoke over the remains of the applause and it quieted down.

“It is not only our last meal for this year, it is also my last as the headmistress of this school.”

There was a loud ‘aww’ of disappointment from the students and Fred shouted out, “don't go Minnie, we want you to stay.”

“Yes Mr. Weasley, I want to stay too. The decision that looked so easy at the beginning of the year, looks much harder now that I've come to the end. But go I must, Poppy, Pomona and I are going on a Grand Tour to visit the great Wizarding centres of Europe. It is something none of us have had ever had the opportunity to do ‘till now, invested as we have been with the magical education of the wizards of Britain and Ireland.”

There was cheering at her words and she smiled into the face of the student’s thanks.

“There are two things I must say before I go.”

“The first thing is that it has been my greatest pleasure, the guardianship that I have been entrusted with over the lives of generations of witches and wizards. It is wondrous to me to see all the potential of you children realised once you leave our Halls and make your way in the world outside. Make good choices whilst you are young, when the consequences are slight, and you will find that, when the difficulties arise that life inevitably throws your way, they will all be met with an honest heart and a knowledge that you will triumph in the end.”

“And Secondly,” But she couldn’t be heard. The cheers and the applause were even greater this time, most of the students stood for her, acknowledging her words and advice. It took awhile for everyone to finish clapping and to regain their seats, but McGonagall didn’t hurry them on, she smiled down at them all, a tear in her eye, obviously touched by their regard.

“The second thing is, since this is the last day of term you cannot serve a detention, Mr.Weasley and probably Mr. Potter too - I have no doubts that your nefarious cousin was also involved. So there is no way that I can punish you for the prank that you were going to perpetrate in an hours time.”

Rose almost laughed, and a few others actually did, at the looks upon her cousin’s faces.

“Instead,” McGonagall said, producing a basket filled with W.W.W. fireworks - James and Fred’s faces turned white. “I shall turn what was going to be an annoyance into a celebration.”

She flicked her wand and the fireworks shot out and straight up towards the ceiling of the Great Hall. Rose didn’t have time to flinch as the first one hit the ceiling and, to her immense surprise, went straight through to explode high in the night sky above. A pattern repeated as each firework shot up in turn.

Rose wouldn’t be Rose if she didn’t wonder how it was done. Did McGonagall disapparate them when they got to the ceiling and reapparate them outside? Did she make the ceiling permeable so that they could go through? Or was it far more prosaic, did she vanish them when they got to the ceiling and have an accomplice launch new ones at the exact right moment.

Whatever the truth of it, Rose was almost more interested in the speculation than the spectacle. McGonagall was waving her wand around like she was conducting an orchestra and the result could truly be called a symphony of light.

As the last few shot up, one failed to go through the roof. Instead it swept around the ceiling, leaving a great sparking trail in its wake. When it had circumnavigated the room and curved back above McGonagall, it suddenly changed direction and hurtled towards Fred and James who were frozen in the path of the missile. Just before it reached them it went off. But instead of the detonation that the boys were fearing, it exploded into a shower of sparks that formed the image of McGonagall’s face and harmlessly swept through the two petrified boys.

* * *

**  
So here is a chapter and a half. I have to thank Anja, she of merlinsbeard, for another fine job in betaing. Though it was particularly difficult for her to do so this time with the intense subject matter of some of it.**

**Bullies.**

**There always seemed to be a bit of a subtext of bullying in the original books - not the least of which came from Professor Snape. Bullying will be an even more prominent sub-theme of this story. I have experienced a fair amount of bullying in my lifetime and even now, as a nearly fifty year old man, still experience some from a workplace-bully. It’s a horrible experience and I hope that my use of it in this story doesn’t trigger anyone, nor cheapen what is a very serious matter.**

**It also marks the departure of McGonagall from these pages. I miss her already, I suppose I’ll have to try and bring her back somehow …**

**As always, any and all comments are welcomed, especially criticism, and this chapter may require that more than most.  
**


	32. Albus and Scorpius go to Malfoy Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our two man male protagonists go to Malfoy Manor for the start of their holidays.
> 
> The nature of words and aglets are perused; some old acquaintances are reunited; the Manor is revealed in all it's glory and not found to be lacking; to one of our hero's consternation, he reveals information unknown to the other, but a history lesson from the Lady of the Manor enlightens them both.
> 
> _Scorpius addressed Albus' mother, “Mrs Potter may I presume upon our acquaintance? Please allow me the honour of introducing my mother to you?”_

**Note: If I was writing about Scorpion taking Albert to his home; well then it'd all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec ... sigh ...**

**but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

* * *

 

**Chapter 32: Albus and Scorpius go to Malfoy Manor**

 

Unlike the pick up at Christmas, both of Albus’s parents were going to meet him at the station, but just like Christmas his dad was going to go off with the Witchguard to take Dawn and Rosie off to the Gringotts tunnels. He looked over to his cousin, who was really more like a sister combined with best friend. She was manhandling her trunk off the train with the help of her little goblin friend. Normally his cousin eschewed any help whatsoever, but it was good to see the really positive affect that Dawn was having on her.

Rose had been strange on the train, especially around Scorpius. Albus had to correct himself, stranger than normal. And speaking of that, Scorpius had been oddly behaved as well. At the beginning of the journey, before they’d split up to sit in different carriages, in a turnabout, Rose had obviously wanted to talk to Scorpius, but he'd been most uncharacteristically indifferent. Later on though, when the antics of his fellow first year boys had driven Scorpius and himself back to the quieter climes of Rose’s carriage, the situation had reversed itself. Scorpius was making his usual, subtle overtones to engage Rose in conversation, but she was sitting there like a storm cloud having none of it.

It was obvious to Albus what was happening: Scorpius knew something but didn’t want to talk about it (Albus knew the cold shoulder of his best friend well enough); Rose did both know it and want to talk about it; but when Scorp had finally calmed down and wanted to talk it was too late; Rose was now angry at Scorpius’ prior indifference and wouldn’t have talked to him even if her life had depended upon it. Albus knew his estimation of their behaviour was close to the money, but he was desperate to know what had caused it all.

In manhandling his own trunk from the train, he missed the pair’s adieu, but it mustn't have gone well, by the sour look upon his friend's face as he had stepped off the train. Albus tried to coax the information from him, but Scorpius had cut him off with a, “Mate, whilst we are together this summer, unless we happen to be in the immediate vicinity of her, for some bizarre reason, let's not talk about Rose-bloody-Weasley, shall we.”

That shut Albus up on the matter, the use of even a mild invective on Scorpius’ part was more than enough to tell Albus that the subject was now closed. It was one of those things that had drawn the two friends closer together; unlike most of the boys at the castle, neither he nor Scorpius liked to swear very much. Albus had asked him about it once - not just about his lack of swearing, but also Scorpius's word use as well. Scorpius had said, ‘there is a whole dictionary full of words: symbolic masterpieces of human ingenuity that tie the immaterial to the material. For nearly everything in the world, is there a correct noun used to label it - from your aglets up to your follicles. There are also a plethora of adjectives to be had, beyond the old Anglo-Saxon word for coitus that most of our friends seem to find themselves unable to construct a sentence without employing. But most people subsist on a vocabulary of a mere few thousand words. It is to me nothing short of a crime.’ Albus took it all on board, nodding sagely, but spoilt the moment somewhat by asking Scorpius what an aglet was. With a deep sigh Scorpius had replied, ‘an aglet is a covering or a device that is used to make the end of a rope or thread pass through an eyelet with ease. The most common example, are those metal or plastic things on the end of one’s shoelaces.’ The conversation stayed with him, but it’s main consequence was that every time Albus now did up his shoelaces, he always thought of Scorpius.

Ok, so, if the topic was off limits as far as Scorpius was concerned, Albus resolved himself to just ask Rose when he saw her later on, during the summer break. But for now there were more pressing matters to attend to. Scorpius, by his side, had just pointed out his mother and they were now making a beeline for her. As he walked, Albus looked around for his own mum or dad. His dad was at the head of the Witchguard again. He sketched him a wave, which his Dad returned. It was probably a strange way to be only so greeted by one’s loving father, but Albus understood. His dad had a job to do, helping to guard and protect the goblin students. Just because he had others he had to care for in this moment didn’t dilute in any way his love for his son. They would meet up sometime over the holidays, and it would be all the warmer for the delay. And he was struck by a sudden realisation: that this was the Smith part of him, this is why he was a Smith because he could think like this. The generosity of spirit was what lay at the heart of the Smith and Albus was beginning to get a feel for what it meant in real terms: he wasn’t a Smith because the Grandmothers had said so, no, they were just putting a label on what he already was. 

Albus shook his head to clear it of his turbulent thoughts because he had just spotted his Mum talking to uncle Ron. He waved at her to attract her attention and pointed at Scorpius’s mother and waved her that way. He noticed that she got the message and saw her bid goodbye to his uncle and move towards where Mrs. Malfoy was standing.

Scorpius had drawn ahead of him while he'd been looking for his Mum and thus he reached his own mother first. She placed a gentle hand on each shoulder and leant down to give him a kiss on the cheek. Scorpius was embarrassed by the show affection, but he didn't pull away or make a scene like Albus had seen some of the other kids doing at their own parental displays of affection. By the time he got there the two of them had pulled themselves apart.

“Hi there, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Albus, how very pleasant to see you once again.” She looked them both over, “are we all set to go?”

“If you don't mind, Mrs. Malfoy, my mum's coming over and I'd like to say goodbye to her first.”

Before Astoria even had a chance to give a proper reply, Albus’ mum was there. She gave him a hug and, much to Albus’ pleasure, she forwent giving him a kiss.

Almost as soon as they moved apart, Scorpius was addressing Albus' mother, “Mrs Potter may I presume upon our acquaintance? Please allow me the honour of introducing my mother to you?” 

Ginny looked for a moment at the boy, bowing in front of her and then broke out into a laugh, “Thanks Scorpius, but we’ve already met.”

Scorpius’ mum also had a smile on her face as she said, “Good afternoon Ginevra.”

“Astoria.”

“Thank you so much for allowing your son to come visit Scorpius. I know you have not seen him for months and I am to take him away for another few weeks. I do appreciate your forbearance”

“That’s OK,” Albus’ mum replied, “James has a couple of his cousins and a few schoolmates around; I’m not going to be short of company, quite the opposite. I should be thanking you for giving me less to have to deal with.”

Albus was looking at his mum in mild surprise, “Hey mum, how do you know Scorp’s mum?”

She looked at him fondly, “We went to school together Al, she was only in the year below me.”

Albus’ frown deepened, “then why haven’t we ever had them over before?”

That question froze the smile on his mother’s face and she began to blush a deep red as the moment drew on. This was quite unusual in Albus’ experience, normally his mum was the epitome of cool - how could she not be when she was about the only person in the world who could curb James’ behaviour. Whatever the reason for her embarrassment, it must have had it’s roots in the area of the past that she rarely talked about. But, to ignore it’s cause for a moment, it was always amusing to Albus that, no matter what you did in life or where you went, the members of his family could never outrun the Weasley blush.

Scorpius’ mum broke the silence and Albus turned his attention to her. “Albus, whilst we were at school, your mother and I inhabited vastly different social circles. I don’t believe that we ever said much to each other beyond the occasional greeting, if that, as we passed each other in the hallways.”

Albus turned back to his mother, just in time to catch a fleeting look of gratitude that she gave Scorpius’ mum. She said to Albus, “That’s right, and I’ve hardly kept up with all my school friends, let alone people I only knew by sight.”

Albus could see that there was a bit more to it than that, but he knew his mother well enough to know that he was not going to learn anything further. His mum said a final round of goodbyes and entreated him to behave himself and to do as Astoria told him to. 

He nodded his agreement and then ... Albus wasn’t going to do it, he’d just finished first year at Hogwarts and was definitely too cool to do it, but he found himself giving his mum a last hug goodbye before she left anyway.

“Do you have everything, boys?” Scorpius’ mum asked, and at their expressions of confirmation said, “Let us make our way to the end of the platform and the floo stations, for our return to the Manor.”

As they walked down the station they passed the other knots of families collecting their children. They were stopped as they passed by Zabini, he brought them over to what must obviously be his dad. “Father,” he said, “may I impose upon you and introduce two of my school friends? Scorpius Malfoy.”

Scorpius stepped forward and held out his hand for the older man to shake, “How do you do, Sir.”

“And Albus Potter.”

Albus followed Scorpius’ lead - Zab probably introduced them in that order so that he’d see what he had to do. He liked Zab, next to Scorp he was by far the best of his friends from Slytherin House. He said, “A pleasure to meet you sir.” The tall and very handsome man - Albus could see where Zab got his looks from - didn’t say a word. His face a mask, all he did was nod at each of the boys in turn as he shook their hands.

Behind him he heard Mrs Malfoy say, “Blaise,” in greeting.

His attention whipped up, over Albus’ shoulder as he dropped Albus’ hand. “Astoria,” he greeted her in a similar manner and in a rich deep voice. It would be a while yet before Zab could hope to match it, but at least now Albus understood who exactly he was trying to imitate; when Zab went all formal and talked posh like Scorp and a few other kids from the old, pureblood families did.

Astoria asked, “At some time during the course of your son’s return from school, if you and Cleona, and your children of course, would like to join us at the Manor for an evening meal, then I would greatly esteem it.”

The man’s face betrayed little of whatever emotions he felt, but Albus detected a sudden start of surprise. After a moment Zab’s father replied, “I shall have to consult with my wife and check my schedule, but I believe that I may accept your offer. I shall send you an owl on the morrow to further the communication.”

Zab was trying to keep as cool as his dad, but was not doing a great job of it, or perhaps it was because Albus knew him better. He was looking both surprised and pleased, Scorpius was the same. In that air Mrs. Malfoy took her leave to continue on towards the end of the platform. Albus was feeling a bit cheeky under the oppressiveness of the high manners, so, as he left, he waved back at his mate in a crazy manner and was rewarded with the sight of his friend barely keeping his composure.

They were only stopped once more in their progression down the platform, but this time it was a far from pleasant meeting. As they were passing a group of women, one suddenly stepped backwards and bumped into Mrs. Malfoy. It looked like an accident, but Albus thought it was one of those ‘on purpose’ type of accidents. The woman turned around and in a simpering voice said, “Didn’t see you there, sorry, Stork.” there were some titters of laughter from the women behind her and she said, “Are you alright?” in a manner that didn’t care if Mrs. Malfoy was right or not.

Mrs. Malfoy kept her composure and replied, “I’m not harmed, thank you for your concern, Pansy.” She bowed to her and kept walking down the station, dragging the boys behind her and ignoring the slightly hostile stares of the group of older witches.

Albus thought they were going to march straight to the flu station, which was not far away now, but Mrs. Malfoy stopped and turned back to the boys. “When I was at school,” she explained, “during the break between 2nd and 3rd year, I shot up in height and returned to school much taller than I had been. And for a considerable time to come, I was also far less graceful. Some girls had already shortened my name to ‘stor’, it was a short leap from that to calling me ‘Stork.’ Pronounced somewhere between stork, as in the bird, and stalk, as in a beanstalk. It is not a name of which I am overly fond.”

Albus listened, wondering why she was telling him all this, but realised after a moment that it wasn't for his benefit. His attention was diverted to his mate when Mrs. Malfoy sharply added, “Scorpius!” He turned to look and was surprised to see that Scorpius was fuming, seething with anger. It looked like he was only barely managing to hold himself back from marching up the platform, retracing his steps, to confront the woman called Pansy.

“Scorpius!” His mother again commanded, in a tone very different from any that Albus had ever heard her employ before. She continued in a tone slightly less severe, but still very firm. “One should not let oneself become upset over the braying of idiots or our inferiors. But above all we do _Not. Make. A. Scene.”_

Albus watched his mate visibly struggle to hold it in and pull himself together. Scorpius came to a point where his shoulders finally lost some of their tension. He looked up into his mother’s eyes and gave her a nod of confirmation. Mrs. Malfoy didn't say anything back, she just returned the short, sharp nod of confirmation of his effort of will. She then said, in a return to her much lighter tone, “come on boys, we're nearly there and I think I see Trina waiting for us.”

The boys picked up their trunks and followed her. Albus reached over and gave his mate a comforting pat on the shoulder. Scorpius half looked around; saying nothing, he gave Albus a nod of thanks for the gesture.

Albus craned his neck up, trying to look over the heads of the people in front of him for a glimpse of this ‘Trina’. He had a mental image of a young girl with a pinny on her head, in a plain dress and sensible shoes. But he could see no one who matched that mental image. When they finally got there and joined the queue to use the floo, Albus found out exactly why he hadn't been able to espy Trina. He had been looking several feet above where her head was. Rather than the girl he had expected, Trina turned out to be one of the family House-elves. Apart from that, he'd gotten the uniform one hundred percent correct. 

Mrs. Malfoy greeted the elf politely, “Hello, Trina.”

Trina sketched a bow, “Mistress.”

Mrs. Malfoy looked around, “do you not have any assistance?”

Trina’s face crumpled into a frown. “That blasted Bertie. He's supposed to be here, but I bet he's got himself lost again or worse, been distracted by something shiny.”

“Do you want me to call him?” asked Mrs. Malfoy.

“Oh, yes please, Mistress.”

“Bertrand.” Mrs. Malfoy called and, with a crack, Bertie appeared. He was holding up an interesting shaped and coloured stone. He gazed myopically around, out of over-large glasses, as Trina started to rip verbal shreds off him. He blinked, something that was only magnified by the glasses that made his big eyes appear even bigger than their already enormous proportions. He weathered the verbal tirade from the other elf and went around to grab hold of one of the trunks from the opposite side to her. With a crack, mid berate, the two House-elves disappeared with Scorpius’ trunk.

The cue for the floo had advanced only by a couple of people, when another loud crack signaled the return of the two elves. Trina was still going strong with her rant, “... don't care if it is a blue agate, and that you don't normally find them in England. You’s has to pay attention, or you'll be out of a job and then where will you be? Hum? There are a lot of employers out there not nearly as forgiving as the Malfoys.”

While they were talking, the two elves had gone to either end of Albus’ trunk. Trina paused in her tirade on the younger elf to address Astoria. “Does the Mistress want us to take this straight to the Blue Guest Room? We had it aired out and turned out this morning, as per your instructions.”

“That will be fine, thank you, Trina.”

The elf nodded and picked up the slack on the handle of the trunk and said, “does the Mistress want us to return?”

 

“No, thank you, Trina, we will be fine from here. Don't bother about having anyone meet us at the other end either, so we will see you next, for dinner.”

The elf nodded and with a crack they both were gone.

Within a minute, it was their turn. A station hand, suborned for the day from the department of magical transportation, was holding out a jar of floo powder for everyone to take as they needed it. His job was also to douse the flames once the station had cleared and then to tidy up after the departing students.

“If you would lead the way please, Dear,” Astoria said to her son, “then I will follow after Albus.”

Scorpius took a pinch of the powder and clearly said, “Malfoy Manor” and threw the powder into the flames, which turned green and flared up. He stepped in, whirled around and was gone

“Are you clear on the directions, Albus?”

Albus nodded, “Yes mam.” and repeated the actions of his friend.

Fireplace after fireplace whirled past him. He finally saw Scorpius standing before him as the fire spat him out. Due to his excellently honed seeker reflexes, he landed nimbly on the rug before the fireplace. He looked around at his surroundings.They were in a richly appointed sitting room. He heard the flames start up behind him and Mrs. Malfoy arrive as he took in the large couch and the overstuffed chairs which seemed to dominate the room. There were portraits on the walls all around - a lot of them had light blonde, almost white hair - and most of them were fixing him with the same suspicious stare.

He liked it, who wouldn’t, but truth be told, he would have expected the whole place to be somewhat larger. The overly-large sofa didn't help, it just made it look cramped, but Albus knew Scorpius had been beside himself with excitement at showing off the Manor to him. He saw that Scorpius was trying to maintain his cool, but Albus could tell that he was actually really proud of the old house and really, really wanted Albus to like it, too.

“It's great, Scorp.”

But there was something in his tone that a best friend would be sure to pick up on and Scorpius’ face fell slightly, “But Albus, this isn't the manor, this is only…” but then his brain caught up with his mouth and he came to a screeching halt, and for some reason, turned red.

Albus was a bit confused at his friend’s reaction, but it was explained when from behind him, walking to stand in front of him, came Mrs. Malfoy saying, “Albus this is not the Manor proper, rather it is only the Gate House. No one can floo into the main house, neither can they apperate in or out, except for the House-elves and the lord of the Manor. The enchantments placed upon it prevent anything else from happening. We have to break our journey here and proceed by foot up to the main building.

Albus looked back to his mate who was still looking ill at ease, but this time Albus knew why. Scorpius was never happy when it was pointed out just how much money and wealth his family had.

He followed Scorpius out of the room, through a smallish corridor that lead to an impressive lead-lighted door. On either side were closed doorways and to his right was a hall stand holding number of items, such as walking sticks, an umbrella or two, and pegs that held a variety of hats. A large mirror, mounted at its centre, reflected their images back at them as they walked past. Scorpius lengthened his stride so that he reached the doorway first and held it open for his mother and his friend. He ushered her through first and then motioned for Albus to follow.

Albus had stopped within a few steps and only vaguely registered the sound of Scorpius closing the door behind him. He was arrested by the sight of the Manor. It was a truly impressive building. This was far more like what Albus had been expecting. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scorpius coming even with him and saying, “what do you think?”

Albus turned to his mate and saw trepidation in his eyes. “Oh wow, it‘s unbelievable.” Albus’ pronouncement was met with a tentative, but heartfelt, smile.

They crunched up the gravel path that led to the entrance of the Manor in silence for a bit until Scorpius said to him, “I bet I know what you're thinking.” He didn't allow time for Albus to answer. “You’re wondering, if you cannot apparate into or out of the Manor, then how did your father effect his escape when he was imprisoned here during the war?”

The unexpectedness of it stopped Albus in his tracks and crucially didn't give him a chance to guard his emotions. He blurted out, “he was what!?”

Scorpius took in the look of complete astonishment and unfortunately there was more than a trace of horror there too. After barely an instant of silent regard, Scorpius’ eyes went wide and then he burst into tears and fled. It all happened so fast, so very suddenly, Albus was still recovering from the information Scorpius had revealed to him unwittingly, but by the time Albus managed to collect himself and shout out a, “Scorp, wait,” Scorpius was already twenty metres away and gaining speed. Albus could only droop his shoulders at the rapidly receding figure of his friend, sigh deeply and roll his eyes. 

This was Albus in a nutshell. Even though his mind was in turmoil from the bomb that his mate had detonated there - his thoughts a jumble as to what this must mean about what his father went through, let alone what the Malfoy family must have been involved in - even with all of that, his first thoughts were for the upset of others and not his own.

He looked over towards Mrs. Malfoy and found, to his surprise, that she had assumed almost exactly the same posture and expression as had he. There was a moment of mutual contemplation before they both broke into a mirthless chuckle. Albus voiced what he assumed they were both thinking, “Oh Mrs. Malfoy, what are we going to do with him?”

Mrs. Malfoy sighed herself. “Our Scorpius has a large and sensitive soul. We who love him must be ever on guard to help protect him against those things that he would take to heart too much.”

“That's so true, Mrs. Malfoy. Ever since the day we first met I saw it. Do you know that on our first trip on the train to school, he thought I was going to bash him?”

“He did acquaint me with that information in his correspondence,” said Mrs. Malfoy.

While they had been talking, they had proceeded up into the large building, but Albus had barely noticed, so caught up as he was with thinking about his mate. His own distress forgotten in the face of concern for his best friend. It wasn’t like his father wasn’t still alive and well, so Albus knew that everything must have turned out for the best. All he had to do was ask his dad or even Scorp, once he had calmed down. So for now, for this particular moment in time, the needs of his friend far outweighed his own. So that's where his thoughts lay.

He should have seen it coming, he thought. Scorpius had been riding an emotional roller coaster all day: first not talking to Rose; then desperately wanting to talk to Rose; then that happiness when his Mum had invited over Zab and his family; and then all that stuff with that Pansy woman; and the final straw had been him. Albus could have kicked himself. Scorpius had been on edge all week and Albus knew it had been over if he'd like the house or not. Scorpius was obviously really proud of it and desperately wanted Albus to see in it what he did.

Blast!

Scorpius had even been so caught up in himself, just before they'd all left the school, that he’d had another one of his ‘clumsy Scorpius moments’; as he called them. Scorpius was always turning up with bruises and scrapes. For somebody who was so agile on a broom, Scorpius was apparently majorly clumsy on his own two feet. Apparently, because Albus had never personally witnessed him trip or fall in all the times of seeing the evidence of it over the course of the year. Albus had never questioned the strangeness in not ever having seen it happen once. 

Albus had certainly seen the evidence that morning as they were getting changed for leaving. In removing his robe, Scorpius’ shirt had ridden up, revealing the bruising of his ribs. Someone in the dorm had whistled, saying, “what happened to you?” Scorpius had looked nonplussed, then realised what his disrobing had revealed. He hastily pulled his shirt down, covering himself up and said, “I was not watching my step and the staircase had moved slightly. I lost my footing and fell down the flight of stairs, resulting in the bruises you see. It was the reason I missed the feast last night. ”

Zab had said, “not again, You have to watch your step Scorpius.”

Something brought his attention back to the here and now and Albus found himself in the gigantic entryway of Malfoy Manor. This was more like what he’d expected. There was white marble everywhere and crystal chandeliers hanging from a distant ceiling. A staircase against the far wall that rose from floor they were on split into two and led to each side of the upper level visible above him. Paintings on the walls - most of the portraits still featuring those white-blonde heads - and statues and busts on plinths in sconces in the walls.

Albus suddenly realised what had attracted his attention, Mrs Malfoy had called for her House-elf, Trina. A loud crack startled Albus as the elf appeared. “You called for me, Mistress.”

“Thank you for responding so promptly, Trina. I'm sorry for calling you again so soon; I had thought not to need your services till dinner.”

“That's alright Mistress.”

“Would you please escort young Master Potter,” Mrs. Malfoy indicated him with a wave of her hand, “to the smallest, Southern drawing room to which, I believe, Scorpius has probably taken himself.”

The elf’s whole demeanor changed; her ears drooped and she sighed, “the poor young Master, is he alright?” It suddenly occurred to Albus, that whatever else this ‘smallest, Southern drawing room’ was, it must have been a favorite ‘hiding’ place for Scorpius.

“Thank you for your concern, Trina. Yes he is well, but has upset himself over nothing and it will soon be mended.” Astoria turned to Albus, “When you get to him, would you please ask him to bring you both to the Primrose Parlor . I shall await you both there with some afternoon tea.”

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Albus half walked, half ran through the halls of the Manor trying to keep up with the little elf. She was saying, “Quickly, quickly. We must get to the young master and make sure he is good. When he’s upset the young master always goes there, oh yes he does.”

In no time they were stood in front of a door. The elf had slowed right down and in a manner that was almost glacial by comparison to the hurry of before, she opened the door and tentatively snuck her head round the door. 

Albus’s first thought as he entered was, “so this is what a drawing room is” Because all it really looked like to him was a lounge room. It even had a lounge in it; or a sofa, or settee or couch or whatever it was that the posh people called it. The wall opposite the door was dominated by a large window. There was a bookshelf on the one wall that he could see, holding a mixture of books, China vases and bronzes. When he ventured further into the room, Albus could see a large, old writing desk set against the wall through which he had entered.

Another step or two took him to a position where he could see over the back of the couch (sofa, settee, etcetera). It might have had all the things he'd seen, but it lacked one thing and that was a Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. Trina was silently trying to get his attention, and when he noticed, he saw her jerking her head towards the writing desk. He moved a pace and bent down to peer underneath the enclosed desk. Scorpius was sitting on a cushion with his head between his knees.

“Oh, Scorp.”

With subtle entreaties he tried to pry his friend from his hidey hole. It took all his efforts to coax Scorpius out of his self-imposed retreat - it was a while before the poor boy would even lift his eyes to look at his mate. Albus, in a last ditch effort, told him of his mother's wishes to have them join her in the Primrose Parlor for afternoon tea. “Come on, we’ll be letting your mother down if we don’t join her.” That appeal to his filial obligations did the trick and Scorpius finally consented to being helped out from under the desk. 

Trina had assured herself that Scorpius was ok and had popped off to prepare the tea and whatever else they were going to have with it.

They started off, but only after Albus said, “Look mate, I can’t go by myself, now that Trina’s gone. I just don’t know the way. You’re going to have to show me.”

Scorpius was embarrassed by his behaviour, so Albus was doing his best at consoling and comforting his mate as they walked back through the Manor on the way to see Mrs. Malfoy again. Albus ignoring, for the moment, the rich wooden hallways through which they were walking, in favour of cajoling Scorpius to better spirits. Ignoring too, the whispering of the portraits that they passed, casting suspicious glances towards the interloper in the presence of the latest Malfoy heir.

They’d just entered a larger corridor and something Albus had just said caused Scorpius to say, “Really, what have I got to be proud of?”

“Oh,” Albus sighed, “it's not that bad Scorp. Stop it, you're just being stupid now.”

Something made Albus turn and survey the corridor behind him, but he couldn't see anything. Perhaps it was just some movement in one of the paintings, but he’d been ignoring those for a while. He grabbed his mate’s shoulder, companionably and they rounded a corner. The boys’ voices faded and were finally cut off by the closing of a door. 

After a moment of silence and stillness in the corridor, in which there was no sudden return of the boys, a glamour shimmered and fell away to reveal two figures. One was a small male House-elf who was somewhat nervously looking up at the taller figure beside him. The taller figure was a middle aged man with a shock of white hair that was receding at the temples slightly. The taller figure was, of course, the Lord of the Manor who just kept staring in the direction the boys had left. The mounting silence caused the House-elf to fill it, “I'm sure he didn't mean it, Mr. Malfoy. Sir?”

The elf’s voice brought Draco’s attention back from wherever it had gone. He turned a comforting face upon his subordinate and said, “I am sure you are correct, Rodney.” There was another silence which Draco broke. “When I have departed, could you please inform my wife that business has taken me from these shores as I suspected it would. I will be in Japan for several days and will return by the end of the week. There are of course no circumstances in which you should reveal my brief visit to the Manor to any other party.”

After receiving a nod from the elf, he turned on the spot and was gone.

The elf had a worried expression on his face and gave a concerned look at the spot where his master had just disappeared from. He shook his head and disappeared himself.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Mrs. Malfoy poured a cup of tea and passed it to her son. Scorpius pressed the fine china to his lips and took a sip. Albus had his own cup and saucer - on the saucer was what was left of a slice of cake. Mrs. Malfoy finally poured one for herself and settled back into her chair, sipping at her tea. She considered the two boys over the rim of the cup and came to a decision.

“This is not how I imagined that you would spend your first afternoon with us; certainly I did envision the tea and cake but not the subject of our conversation. I want to tell you both something that will set your minds at ease.” She took a long draught of her tea and set it back upon its saucer and down upon a table beside her chair.

“Your father, Scorpius, has been brutally honest about some of the events in his past, but I suspect that he has been more brutal and less honest about his own involvement. I know there is little of the events of that time that he doesn't remember in shame, but it is the events which surround the time that Harry Potter and his friends were imprisoned here, that reflect better upon your father than he might have said.”

“Yes, Albus, it is true that during the second Wizarding War your father was imprisoned here for a time.”

“That was true,” Albus blurted out, a little of his own concerns coming to the fore.

Astoria nodded slowly. “From what I know, it was hardly more than a day or two, but still, it did occur. Lucius and Draco and Narcissa were all here at the time, but Scorpius’s grandfather - that is Lucius, in case you had not heard the name before - was not exactly Lord of the Manor at the time. You see, he had displeased the Dark Lord and was punished as a result. The Dark Lord did not treat those who failed him well. He had stripped Lucius of his position as favourite, as well as of his power and even his wand. Lucius was forced to abide, wandless and disrespected, in his own home, as the other Death Eaters and the Dark Lord used it as they pleased.”

“A band of snatchers, that included in their number that monster, the werewolf known as Greyback, had managed to capture your father, Albus, and your Aunt and Uncle too. Just before they were found, your Aunt had disfigured the face of your father so that he was unrecognisable. When the Death Eaters they were delivered to knew that they had Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley in their power, of course they assumed that the third of their number must be Harry Potter. They were all excited, Draco once told me, because there was a rich reward offered for his capture. That was the snatchers, but for the Death Eaters, their reward would be the favours and blessings that would accrue from their Dark Master if they were to be the ones to hand over the Potter boy to him.”

“But your Aunt’s cleverness had hidden your father’s identity well. And it is here, Scorpius, where your father shines, though he might not have told you as much.” 

The boys were riveted by Mrs. Malfoy’s words, Scorpius just as much as Albus, even though to Albus it was entirely unknown to him before now. He had known that the forces of Voldemort had been winning, taking over the wizarding world before his father had done whatever he had to finally defeat Voldemort. But he hadn’t even thought of what this might entail - like a massive price on his father’s head, for instance. He was trying to come to grips with it all when he happened to look over at his mate. Scorpius was all wide eyed, Albus noticed, and he shook his head in negation at his mother. ‘What hadn’t he known?’ Albus had to struggle his own thoughts back into submission because Mrs. Malfoy had begun to talk again and he was desperate to know more.

“I thought as much,” Mrs. Malfoy continued, picking up her tea once again and taking a sip. “Your father was called upon to identify Harry, as the Death Eaters couldn't recognise him; oh, he had the right coloured hair and one of the snatchers said he was wearing glasses, so they all suspected it. But they needed confirmation before they summoned the Dark Lord back to them or they would be risking punishment, or worse, at the cruel hands of their dark Master.”

“Draco was made to do it because the others knew that he had known Harry well at school. Once he was forced before him, he told me that he had known immediately that it was Harry. His face might have been different but Albus’ dad could be easily distinguished by many other factors. He told me, in that moment, when he was standing there, it was almost like he had a vision of the future. The Dark Lord would return and Harry would be killed. Draco’s family and his father would be exalted for it but then … then he’d have to live under the capricious will of the Dark Lord for ever. But it wasn’t only that, it was also the same feeling he had when he couldn’t kill Dumbledore even though he had been tasked to do it. He could not do it because he didn't want to be the one to be responsible for Harry’s death. He still didn't like Harry much, but he didn't want him dead at his hands either.”

“So he lied. He told them that he couldn't recognise him. They got him to look again, to be sure - it was even his own father who pressured him enormously - but he still said he wasn't sure, that it wasn't Harry. And he did so, knowing that once the Dark Lord returned and he used his legilimency on him, he would know that Draco had been lying and had recognised Harry all along.”

“I don’t know what he hoped to achieve, I don’t know if he knew either. But according to him, that's as far as his bravery went. He wanted to sneak down and free your father later on, but he knew he could not. He was being watched most the time for one thing, but that wasn't the main reason. He was scared of what would happen once the Dark Lord returned and if he found out Draco had actively aided his enemy’s escape …”

“But what his actions did was to give your father time. Time and a chance to escape. Your father knew that Draco had lied on his behalf; he knew that a school mate - even though he was an enemy mostly - would have recognised him immediately. So he knew the bravery that Draco had shown that day.”

“He said as much at Draco’s trial”

That caught the attention of both of the boys, not that they hadn’t been completely absorbed by what Mrs. Malfoy had been saying from the start. Albus sat up in surprise, but it affected Scorpius more.

“He did what!” The shock of it making Scorpius forget his manners. He realised the intemperance of his exclamation, so he appended a polite, “Mother,” to the end.

Albus couldn't keep quiet either. “Your dad, I mean Mr. Malfoy - was put on trial?”

“Yes Albus,” Mrs. Malfoy replied, “my husband, well he wasn’t that back then, was put on trial. All the former Death Eaters and their associates were. Draco stood trial and his mother insisted on being tried with him, bless her heart, hoping that her presence would lessen the punishment upon him. Draco plead guilty,” there was an indrawn breath from Scorpius, “he was going to explain his actions and throw himself upon the mercy of the court. He thought it might lessen his prison time to two years, hopefully no longer than five, if he plead his reasons.”

“That's when your father stepped in, Albus. The presence of Harry Potter speaking on behalf of Draco, pleading for leniency, explaining how Draco’s actions were responsible for his survival as were those of your grandmother, Scorpius. Narcissa’s actively saved his life, after all, when he had been struck down by Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest.”

Albus goggled at the Mother of his friend. He’d learnt more today about his father’s past than he had in the past eleven years. But he couldn’t afford to dwell on his astonishment, Mrs. Malfoy had not paused in addressing her son; she hadn’t noticed Albus’ reaction.

“The decision of the trial was still perilously close, but in the end, Draco was acquitted of the major crimes he had been charged with and was allowed to walk free with only community service to follow. Community service which he served at St Mungo’s and it’s where he really met me and when we started going out.”

“Your father and your uncle, Albus,saved Draco’s life twice during the battle of Hogwarts.” Albus started in surprise and looked around at his mate, but he could see in the expression on Scorpius’ face that he already knew that piece of information. “But during the trial, your father saved the rest of Draco’s life as well.”

* * *

**  
Author’s note: So here we start a bit of an interlude away from the story of Rose. I felt like we could all use a break from that as well as wanting a bit more exploration of the character and nature of Scorpius and Albus. The story so far has been very Rose heavy (naturally) and I think that I wanted to see the boys for a while.**

**Again this has been proofread by the wonderful Anja, aka Merlinsbeard and betan into shape. She despaired of not having the bullying exposed and punished from the previous chapter, but I think Scorpius wants to put all of that behind himself and try to forget it.**

**There are a few more chapters to come of the two boys alone before we return to the adventures of Rose; I do so hope you enjoy the interlude.**

**By the by, when I was looking around for a face to put to my thoughts of what Astoria should look like, I image searched 'woman shoulder length brunette hair'. One of the images returned was this one and when I sought more like it I found that I'd stumbled upon Olivia Wilde. How perfect. I love Astoria. JKR has said, though I suspected it before I heard that she'd said it, that Astoria was one of the main reasons for Draco's 'rehabilitation'. She is so wonderfully cryptic too, not even a mention in the books till the epilogue - we didn't even know she existed. With that her character is so wonderfully open to interpretation. I do so hope you all don't mind that I ascribe to her the appearance of one of the most beautiful women on the face of the earth.**

**As always any and all reviews are gratefully accepted and answered ... eventually.  
**


	33. The first few days at Malfoy Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our two male protagonists begin their holiday together.
> 
> Things quickly settle down after the disastrous start to the holiday; Enjoying the not often found, but glorious when it is, English Summer Sun; On the nature of Mimbletonia; Albus observes the return of the Master of the Manor.
> 
> _Albus knew why his mate was distracting him with Quidditch and knew that Scorpius had to get round it sometime. “Scorp, it’s OK. I want to see the place.”_

**Note: If I was writing Scorpion and Albert at his country home; well then it'd all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec ... sigh ...**

**but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

* * *

 

**Chapter 33: The First Few Days at Malfoy Manor**

 

  
Dinner at Malfoy Manor that night was a sombre affair. 

Scorpius was deep in thought after hearing the things his mother had told them of the past - things that his father hadn’t revealed to him. Albus wondered what sort of man would tell his son only of the bad he’d done and not leaven it with his good deeds. How much shame and guilt such a man had to be carrying to burden down his soul so much. 

His own father had not told him nearly so much about his past as Scorpius’ father apparently had. And this, the tale that Mrs. Malfoy had related to them both, had only been one event; had only occurred over a number of days she had said. What else had happened to his father that he didn’t know about? He had resolved to himself, in the time since afternoon tea, to read a book about it all and fill in the obviously large gaps in something that was quite personal.

Perhaps his own head should have been spinning with the information that he had learnt about his father, but it wasn’t. Albus just couldn’t - not when his friend was in so much obvious anguish.

Mrs. Malfoy had the good grace not to intrude upon her son’s thoughts. There had been a few pleasantries at the commencement of the meal but since then silence had reigned. Albus had looked up at Mrs. Malfoy at one stage during the meal wondering if he should break the silence, but Mrs. Malfoy had caught his eye and all she’d done was to give him a serene smile and perhaps also a barely detectable shake of her head. It made Albus realise her breeding and her manners - she would not engage him in conversation, even a guest, if it would make another member of the dinner party unhappy and remind that person of their own ill manners in not conversing. 

Albus liked her more than ever when he realised why she was deliberately remaining silent. She was such an interesting person and being married to Draco Malfoy was only a small part of it. She’d shown forbearance and poise on the station when that Pansy woman had deliberately bumped into her. She had shown some steel when she brought Scorpius’s temper to heel. And now this.

Albus deliberately caught her eye once more and sent a conspiratorial smile back her way. He understood why she was not conversing and wanted to communicate that he got it and wouldn’t talk either. She got his intent and beamed back at him. They went back to their meals and kept eating, but this time the silence wasn’t oppressive, instead it was companionable.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Scorpius led him through the maze of corridors after the completion of the meal. The layout of the hallways was rendered even more impenetrable by the shadowy ambience lent to them by the dim nighttime lighting.

They arrived at some upper corridor that Albus presumed must still be in the same building. He only thought so from the fact that he hadn’t remembered leaving one building and entering another, but not from the sheer distance that they had travelled. Scorpius stopped by a door and gestured further up the corridor, “the door with the lever-style silver handle is mine and this is your room.”

He opened the door and ushered Albus into a massive bedroom that must have been as big as Albus’ lounge room and dining room at home put together. He suddenly remembered Mrs. Malfoy calling it the Blue Guest Room, and the reason why he suddenly remembered was patently obvious - its name was nothing if not descriptive. Even in the dim candle light, everything that Albus could see was some shade of blue: from the curtains drawn across the windows to the curtains around the four-poster bed; from the highly patterned persian rug on the floor to the blue tinted glass of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Albus was lost in contemplation of his surroundings and didn’t notice what Scorpius was up to till he heard from behind him Scorpius clear his throat and say, “um, well goodnight Albus. See you in the morning.” And before Albus knew it, Scorpius had closed the door behind him as he left and Albus was left alone in the gigantic bedroom.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

He lay awake that night, not tossing and turning, but never truly being able to enter a deep sleep. It wasn’t because his bed was too soft or that his pillow was too hard or anything like that. It certainly wasn’t because he wasn’t tired - he was exhausted. The day that had been seemed like it should have covered multiple days, from the sheer amount that had happened within it.

It wasn’t even from the strangeness of his surroundings. Even though he’d spent the last year in the castle of Hogwarts, he’d spent most of the previous eleven years in this bed. Well, except for the few years he’d gone to that horrible Muggle public school of course.

There came a knock from his door and Scorpius managed to get out a, “yes,” just before the door opened and his mate stuck his unruly mop of black hair round the door.

“Hey Scorp,” he said entering with a pillow under one arm and a scrunched up sheet under another, “do you mind if I bunk in with you? I just couldn’t sleep alone after being in the dorms for so long.”

Scorpius knew exactly what this was, this was the Hufflepuff side of Albus coming to the fore - concerned for his mate after the emotional day that Albus knew his friend had suffered through. Even though it was obvious Albus hadn’t known any of the information they’d learnt, here he was, not thinking of himself, but as was always his way, thinking of others first. Scorpius would never forget that shocked expression on his mate’s face when he learnt that his dad had been imprisoned by Scorpius’ own father. In his darker moments it would haunt him. Scorpius was reminded again, just how lucky he was to have Albus for a friend. Albus was only saying that he couldn’t sleep to save Scorpius some face.

As desperate as Scorpius was to have his mate bunk in with him, honesty forced him to say. “You’re welcome to stay here, but there’s nowhere for you to sleep, except for the divan, but it might be too hard and uncomfortable.”

“What?” Scorpius was forced to ask because apparently what he’d said had caused his mate to breakout in a fit of giggles.

“It’s just,” Albus said reining in his giggles, “when we flooed in here, and I saw that lounge in the Gatehouse, I wondered what you posh people call them, and now I know: a Divan.”

Scorpius gave a theatrical sigh, “No Albus, that **was** a lounge in the Gatehouse and this is a divan, you ill-educated oik” But there was no heat to his words and they both laughed together.

“That’s OK, I’ll try the Div-An,” Albus said, over pronouncing the last syllable. Scorpius chucked a pillow at him.

“Wait a sec mate, I have an idea.” Scorpius sat up straighter in his bed and adopted his far more formal sounding voice, “House-elves of Malfoy Manor, may I request some assistance?”

With a crack there was suddenly a House-elf standing before them. It was the same young one from before, who’d they’d both seen on the station. He stood there looking up at them, the low lighting and the elf’s spectacles served to grossly over-magnify his eyes such that, when looking at him, all the boys could see were a large pair of googly eyes … that just kept staring at them, unblinkingly. Eventually the elf said, “The young Master called?” 

“Yes thank you; Bertie wasn’t it?” The elf nodded in confirmation. “Would you mind providing a bed for my friend to sleep here in this room? A simple single will do I think.”

The elf blinked up at them for just a bit too long, long enough to wonder if he’d understood. Before either of the boys could ask if the elf knew what they wanted, he disappeared with another loud crack. The boys looked at each other bemusedly, but again, before either could voice a comment, a loud crack heralded the elf’s return. This time he had a companion and both of them were holding up a bed by the legs on opposite corners. They dumped the bed down, disappeared a moment later, then reappeared with a mattress made up with sheets and pillows.

After enquiring if there was anything else the boys required and receiving a negative in response the elves left them both alone.

Albus snuggled into his bed and said, “ah, that’s better, just like the dorms. Goodnight Scorp.”

Scorpius knew the truth; Albus having to sleep in any one of four different dorms was used to sleeping in different beds all the time and could basically fall asleep anywhere. He returned his mate’s goodnight and it was with a smile upon his lips that he almost instantly fell asleep.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

They had a luxurious sleep-in the next morning, after the late night before; not having to attend any classes helped too. They never knew that Scorpius’ mother had come into the room to check on her son. To her surprise she had found them both there. She studied their slumbering forms for a few moments and had left quietly with a smile.

Eventually, one of the boys’ yawnings and stretchings woke the other, causing in turn the other’s stretching and yawnings.

An unspoken agreement between them formed, almost telepathically, as only happens between the best of friends, to not mention the events of the previous day. And like boys will, they both chose to pretend that all that emotional stuff had never happened at all.

After a breakfast that wasn’t too dissimilar to those that they’d had at Hogwarts, the suggestion was soon made of Quidditch. The rest of the day was spent flying back and forth over the manicured gardens in pursuit of a small, flying, golden ball.

The next day was much the same and the glorious English sunshine made it just as pleasant the second day as the first. But when Scorpius reached for his broom on the third day,   
Albus was forced to stop him. “Look, mate, I like Quidditch as much as the next person, but enough is enough.” Albus knew why his mate was distracting him with Quidditch and knew that Scorpius had to get round it sometime. “Scorp, it’s OK. I want to see the place.”

Scorpius had a scared look about him as he said, “but horrible things happened here.”

Albus knew exactly how to put his mate at ease. Adopting the tone and manner Scorpius used when he was being formal, Albus said, “by using the past tense of the operative verb in that sentence you indicate that whatever events did occur, they are now over and done with, I mean completed and…” Before he could think of a longer word for ‘done with’, he had to stop because Scorpius had thrown his pillow at him.

The next few minutes were spent in equal parts by the boys chucking stuff at the other or dodging the stuff that the other had thrown. They’d exhausted most of the soft armaments and when Albus reached for a book it caused Scorpius to cry out, “No Albus, for the sake of literature, put the book down.”

They stood there, panting and smiling at each other and Albus eventually said. “Listen mate, horrible things aren’t happening at the moment are they?”

“Of course not.”

“And your dad isn’t about to start them up again?”

Scorpius hesitantly said, “I don’t think so.”

Albus hurried over his mate’s hesitancy, “So come on, show us the place. You’re obviously proud of it, that’s the Manor I want to see – the one you do.”

 

\--o-O-o—

 

Astoria was sat in the Summer Parlour. Large French windows overlooked a section of lawn that stretched down and away from the Manor and led to a small lake, framed by tree clad hills. Far too beautiful to have been, entirely, the product of nature. It derived its name from the fact that, in the summer months, the chill of the night would lift off the room by lunch and so was a pleasant place for one to take in their afternoon tea.

She’d just placed the teacup back upon her saucer when the quiet of the afternoon was rudely interrupted. The skies were clear, it was pleasant out, when two boys fell out of the heavens, perched upon broomsticks. 

Admittedly, they probably weren't from heaven, judging by some of the imprecations one of the boys was hurling at the other. From what the second boy was carrying, it was probably from the greenhouses they’d come. The first boy, laughing fit to burst, flew close to the ground and ran off his broom. Staggering only slightly as his feet hit the ground, he left the broom to shoot through his legs and drop to the ground once it had no passenger upon it. The second boy, the one employing the bitter language – though not swearing as such, his mother was pleased to note – landed behind him, though not so gracefully as the first. He was admonishing his friend, but couldn’t keep some of the laughter from bubbling up every now and then.

“I’ll get you for that.”

The other boy laughed and dodged out of the way. “That’s not very becoming of you, Master Malfoy. It was an accident, after all.”

“I’ll give you becoming,” said the blond figure and lunged at the laughing boy. Even though he was laughing so hard he still managed to dodge out of the way.

As they ran around each other, Astoria was suddenly presented with a front view of her son. Her suspicions had been correct in her assumption that the boys must have been in the greenhouses. The object in Scorpius’s hands had looked like a broken off piece of Mimbulus Mimbeltonia and the spray of stink sap up his front confirmed it.

Unable to tag the tousle-haired boy dodging his attempts to do so, Scorpius gave up and instead flung the plant point blank at him instead. In a feat of amazing dexterity, Albus bent his body around the trajectory of the hurled piece of vegetation. To the watching Astoria, it became quite clear that her son’s praise of Albus’ skills as a seeker was not hyperbole or merely a product of their close friendship. Albus could indeed be as good as Scorpius’ correspondence had alluded to.

With a cheeky, “missed me, no wonder you’re no good as a chaser,” Albus leapt for his broom. Scorpius let out a howl of mock outrage, pounced upon his own broom and sped into the air after the rapidly retreating form of Albus.

Peace returned to the scene as suddenly as it had departed, mere minutes in the past, Astoria was surprised to note. Not seconds later, an elderly gardener made his slow way out of the trees to tend to the lawn where the boys had played. Astoria watched him as he repaired the lawn and retrieved the branch of the Mimbletonia. Like a bubble of memory popping to the surface, she recalled that a sprig of Mimbletonia could be potted and a new plant struck from it. Waste not, want not was ever the bywords of the gardeners charged with the responsibility of maintaining the Manor’s extensive grounds.

Astoria went to brush something off her cheek and her fingers came away wet, realising as she did so that her eyes were full of tears to the extent that some had fallen down her cheeks.

 

\--o-O-o—

 

Albus was lost again.

He’d been here almost five days – four days and five nights to be exact – yet he still couldn’t find his way around. The darkness of the night time hallways only made it worse. He’d gone to have a soak in the bath and wash off the grime and dirt of the day’s activities with Scorp. Even though a whole day had passed, there was still the faint smell of the stink sap in the room from when Scorpius had tried to scrub himself clean of the foul slime. Scorpius had been finally allowing himself to relax – he’d been having fun, there was no doubt in Albus’ mind - but his mate had always been keeping his reserve, his ever present self-suppression at the back of everything. Albus had almost despaired of its departure, the way the stay had begun, but now that Scorpius’ discomfort of earlier in the week had been forgot, so far, they’d found plenty to see and do, and more importantly, enjoy.

Tomorrow though, Albus was determined that at least one of the day’s activities would be to locate a map of the place. Because, at the moment, he was standing in a corridor looking towards where he swore Scorpius’ room should be. Instead the corridor branched left and right and what lay ahead was a stretch of blank wall – blank except for one of the Manor’s ubiquitous paintings, whose occupant, it seemed to Albus, was smiling at his predicament.

He was so turned around. He was so sure his path lay ahead that he actually went up to the wall to check if it was solid. When he did so, the occupant of the painting actually did laugh at him. Could the place have turned around, the corridors moved about? It was a magical old building after all.

Oh well, he’d just have to wander on, he’d find it eventually, wouldn’t he?

 

\--o-O-o—

 

He was in a room when he heard the voices. He’d tried the room because it looked vaguely familiar and the door had been ajar. He spied doors in the far wall, when he entered, over the top of a few lounges (fairly sure they weren’t divans this time), but when he’d walked across the room, they were only reflections in the external windows of doors at the side of the room. The darkness of the night had turned the windows into mirrors.

He was going to turn around, to exit the room, when he heard the voices coming closer. From just outside the door he’d left ajar, one said, “in here. I don’t want to be overheard.” Before Albus could move, into the room entered Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. He knew from Mrs. Malfoy at breakfast earlier in the day, that the master of the house was due back either later that night or early next morning. He hadn’t made an appearance at dinner, so they had all assumed that the morrow would bring his arrival.

Albus was caught off and was slammed into inaction by what he heard Mr. Malfoy say.  
“I cannot believe that he would say that. He outright told the Potter boy that he had nothing to be proud of.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” Mrs. Malfoy said comfortingly.

“He meant the words he spoke, I am certain of it.” Mr. Malfoy contradicted.

“I’m sure it’s not nearly as bad as you make it out to be. But the thing that I don’t understand is when, exactly, did you hear this exchange?”

Mr. Malfoy looked a bit ashamed but only momentarily. Had this been any other time, Albus would not have discerned nearly as much as he had, but thinking he was alone with his wife had lowered Draco’s normal reserve.

“I found that I had a spare half hour in my schedule before I had to leave for Asia, so I decided to pop back here.” Mrs. Malfoy drew in a deep breath, “Yes, I know dear, the subterfuge was probably beneath me, but its is done now and was done for the best; I had to see how things lay. Despite the assurances of my son, and even of your assurances, Stori dear, I needed to know for myself the true intentions of the Potter boy.”

Albus must have moved or made a sound, because suddenly Mr. Malfoy spun around with a sharp command. “Who’s there?”

Draco walked towards where Albus had thought himself hidden and stopped only a metre away from where he was standing in the shadows of the curtains around the window. Albus was going to stammer out an apology, once he gained control of his voice, but then … it wasn’t needed?

Mr. Malfoy had lost the tension of his pose. “Thought I heard something. Sorry Stori, it’s just been getting to me, and, to be fair to the Potter boy, all I heard him say to our son were words of consolation and comfort. It’s just … why would Scorpius think that there was nothing for him to be proud of?”

Mr. Malfoy was side on to Albus, half turned back to the doorway in which Mrs. Malfoy still stood. She walked a few paces further into the room, looking at the anguish written large across her husband’s face and answered him. “Because you have given him nothing to be proud of.”

The look of betrayal and anguish that suffused his features was almost heartbreaking but it changed when his wife added, “ … that he knows of.”

The look of horror slipped away and Mr. Malfoy just crumpled up and fell down onto a nearby lounge, holding his head in his hands.

Mrs. Malfoy kept talking, and as she did so, moved to his side. “He knows only the worst of you, Draco, and directly from your own lips. He doesn’t know all of what you’ve done to change. He knows of the Scholarship, but does he know of the rest? Your public donations, the charities you’ve supported – all done anonymously, and not as your forefathers did, to further your own agenda. And all your good works on the estate and with your business. Does he know that you are the first Malfoy in generations, dare I say ever, to swell the family fortunes by industry alone and not like the robber barons who came before you?”

“Does he know any of this?” Mrs. Malfoy had sat by her husband’s side and was stroking his hair and shoulders. “No, because if he did, he might still be somewhat ashamed of past Malfoys, but he would be proud to be the son of Draco Malfoy of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy.”

Mr. Malfoy still did not look up, but he was holding one of his wife’s hands, pressing it to the side of his face.

“Do you have any idea in what frame of mind he first went to school?” 

Mr. Malfoy did not respond, so Mrs. Malfoy continued.

“He was so afraid that he would be shunned, would be reviled. So you can imagine his horror when who would enter his carriage, to come to sit with him, but the son of his father’s old enemy. You know that much, but what you don’t know – and I was told this in confidence, so please do not spread this further. I enjoy regular and open correspondence with Scorpius, and I do so because he knows I will keep his confidence when he wants me too. I don’t want it jeopardised.”

Mr. Malfoy was now looking up at his wife. “What happened?”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes dear, just … please tell me.”

“When Albus stood, to greet our son, to welcome him, to shake his hand: all Scorpius thought was that the boy was going to strike him – was standing for the very purpose of doing so – to beat him for no better reason than that his name was Malfoy.”

“That is how we sent him to school.”

“No.” Mr. Malfoy breathed out. Albus could only see Mr. Malfoy’s face in profile, but he saw him shut his eyes in dismay. 

“But what happened next is the remarkable thing. When our son’s name was revealed to him by the Weasley girl,” Mrs. Malfoy chuckled ruefully, “her reaction was not nearly so pleasant as Albus’, apparently.”

Mr. Malfoy’s eyes snapped back open. Scowling he said, “Bloody Weasel, I knew he wouldn't forget so readily.” The listening Albus knew that he didn’t mean Rose, but her father, Uncle Ron, for presumably passing down his own prejudices.

Mrs. Malfoy brought her husband’s attention back to herself. “When Albus heard his name, it was apparently the first time in his life he’d ever heard the name of Malfoy.”

Mr. Malfoy’s mouth dropped open. “That’s impossible.”

“No it isn’t. It is unlikely, improbable even, but not impossible. That’s how effective you’ve been. You have kept your head down and your name out of the public eye for the last nineteen years. You have not had anything to do with your old school enemies because you were worried they might still hold grudges. And you have had little to do with your old friends because of your own father’s, and mother’s, public betrayal of their ideals. And your own disavowal of those old pureblood ideals too, don’t forget that. As a consequence, though, you have raised Scorpius in loneliness and isolation for far too long.”

Mr. Malfoy let out a groan of pain, it sounded like. Mrs. Malfoy tightened her grip on his hand with her left and captured his face with her right. “But don’t you understand what it means?” Mr. Malfoy was looking into his wife’s face, looking so lost.

“Through the actions of the son, the actions of the father are revealed. Harry Potter has obviously forgiven you, it is about time, Draco my love, that you began to forgive yourself.”

They gazed intently into each other’s eyes for a time then Mr. Malfoy stood, bringing his wife to her feet and embraced her. They eventually broke apart, much to the satisfaction of the waiting Albus who was embarrassed to see what should have been private. This time it was Mr. Malfoy who held his wife’s face in his hands. He studied her face intently before he spoke.

“There’s nothing in … there’s … every day, every day I’m thankful for you. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, and giving me a son and heir is not the least of it. Without you, my dearest, I’d be so lost.” He tilted her head down and kissed her forehead.

When he tilted her head back, she was smiling. “I heard something over the past few days,” she said, “something that I’d never heard before within the environs of Malfoy Manor - which I dare say, may never have been heard here ever before. And that was the sound of laughing children at play. I swore to myself then that it wouldn’t be the last time I heard it here either.”

“Come on, that is enough of this. You must be tired from all your travelling, let’s go to bed.” She took his hand and led him from the room.

Albus was a bit overwhelmed, but once he couldn’t hear them anymore he went to leave … and walked straight into something.

He pressed against it with his hands. He could see right through it, so it must have been an invisible barrier of some kind. It certainly hadn’t been there when he entered the room. He was exploring the boundaries of it and its strength when it suddenly disappeared. He staggered forwards, but that didn’t surprise him nearly as much as the voice that came from behind him.

“Master Potter.”

Albus whirled around to see an elderly house-elf stood under the window where Albus had been. Where he had come from Albus had no idea – he certainly hadn’t apparated in because there had not been that distinctive, and very audible, ‘crack’ of him doing so.

“I would have preferred that you hear none of my Master’s conversation,” said the elf without any further preamble, “but once you had heard as much as you did, till my master detected your presence, I thought it the wiser course to let you hear him out without being revealed.”

It explained, somewhat, the invisible wall and why Mr. Malfoy had not seen him, even though he’d looked straight at Albus. But it didn’t explain exactly why the elf had done it. Albus opened his mouth to ask, but the elf beat him to it.

“Rodney knows you, yes we does, son of Harry Potter, he who freed Dobby. We knows what you are doing for the young Master, making with him a true friendship, and the house-elves of Malfoy Manor like what we sees.” He gave Albus a stern look. “You will keep the Master’s secrets, but otherwise, use what you learnt here tonight wisely, young sir.”

And with that, the house-elf began to fade out and he was gone.

On top of everything that happened, it left Albus speechless. But then he remembered just why he was there and frustration gave him voice. “But I still don’t know the way back to my room!”

Albus began to leave, resignedly back to trying to find the way to Scorpius’ room, but the elf faded back into view in front of him.

“That explains your presence here, I had wondered. Bertie …” He commanded.

The young elf appeared with a sharp crack – not for him the gradual appearance and disappearance of the other elf.

“You will take Albus Potter back to his bedroom, yes.”

There was no immediate response from the young elf, but having dealt with him before, Albus (and obviously Rodney, too) knew his ways. In the darkened room, shadows obscured his eyes behind his enormous glasses and, after a long pause, he nodded.

“If you would follow Bertie, young master.”

Albus followed him, and turned to say, “thanks,” but the other elf was already fading away and Albus wasn’t certain that he’d heard.

* * *

**Author's note:**

**Here it is, hot off the betaing rotisserie that Anja, aka Merlinsbeard, has been basting it on. Events have settled down and the boys are beginning to enjoy themselves together. We also have a lot to do with Astoria. I frankly love her and we see some of the story from her perspective here - and will see more in the chapters to come. There is also the return of Draco, in what I hope is a highly charged emotional scene.**

**Well, let us see what happens in the next chapter, shall we, when Albus sets his mind on finding a map of the Manor.**

**As always, comments are gratefully appreciated.**


	34. The Library of Malfoy Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our two main male protagonists explore the magnificent Library of Malfoy Manor.
> 
> A new character is revealed in an epistolary manner; the Lord of the Manor is revealed openly; Books and relics and games and comics and maps and ...; A fight and a secret revealed; An amazing game is played then a far more sedate one.
> 
> _“Hey Scorp, that’s what I was going to ask you. I so need a map of this place – I just keep getting lost, buddy. Don’t you have a map? Come to think of it, wouldn’t a place like this have a library?”_

**Note: If I was writing Scorpion and Albert exploring the Library of his country home; well then it'd all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec ... sigh ...**

**but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

* * *

 

**Chapter 34: The Library of Malfoy Manor**

 

  
Albus had a fitful sleep that night, the conversation he’d overheard rattling around in his head. As a consequence, he slept in and Scorpius had already left before he got up. _‘Just brilliant,’_ he thought, _‘I have to get through the Manor again on my own.’_

But this time it was far easier. The route that had seemed convoluted in the darkness of the previous night was now clear in the morning sunlight. Gone, too, was the oppressive feeling of the old house that seemed to leach out from the walls. In the refreshing morning light the Manor took on a completely different character - the delicious smells of breakfast wafting his way didn’t hurt either. So the path back to the dining hall was far more straightforward – with only one wrong turning on the way.

It did, however, keep in his mind the resolution that he’d made to himself before he’d fallen asleep last night: he had to find himself a map of the place. When he found the breakfast room, the awaiting breakfast and the sight of Scorpius drove all immediate thoughts of a map from his mind however.

Scorpius was sat at the table, a piece of toast with bacon and tomato sauce on it poised halfway to his lips. His free hand was holding a letter and he was chuckling to himself as he read.

“Hi Scorp,” said Albus as he walked to the bain-maries to get his breakfast – totally missing the start of surprise from his friend, as Scorpius flipped down the letter to ‘hide’ it from view. “That’s from her, isn’t it?”

Startled, Scorpius blurted out, “What? Who?”

“The letter,” Albus said over his shoulder, not aware of his friend’s discomfort, “it’s from your cousin, isn’t it? What did you think I meant”

Scorpius was relieved that Albus hadn’t seen his blushes and embarrassment, and told Albus that it was. He had thought for a moment that Albus may have been asking if it was from another girl, one they both knew ...

Albus came to the table with his plate laden with bacon and toast and eggs. “What’s so funny about it?”

Scorpius immediately brightened up. “Daisy. She’s so funny, it’s a pity you’re going to miss her. Not that she’s going to be here for long. I believe she leaves the day after she gets here, for Canada this time, according to this letter, that is.” He waved the piece of parchment, to indicate it.

“Ok, but what’s so funny?”

“Oh yeah, just read this.” He looked down at the letter in his hands, but folded down the first page and laid it on the table. “Um, not this one, it’s … it has some personal stuff, but this,” he scanned the second page, “read this from the second paragraph down.” He passed the page to Albus.

_Do remember, ma petit scorpion, that pétasse I told you about? (I don’t know if you’ve heard that word before. It doesn’t quite mean ‘bitch’ as the English would use, but it’s getting close) She’s in the year above me, a foot taller than me and about 5 hundred kilos heavier than me, remember? So there’s no way I can pay her back for all her … well all her bitchery actually – not physically at least. And she’s picked on me, even though I’ve kept my head down (ha - you know that’s a fib) and a lot of the girls who are way weaker than me._

_So, anyway …_

_(pauses writing to heave a dramatic sigh)  
*SIGH*_

_We are too fair, you and I, both of us see too much. We can even see the good in those who are bad; making us treat them fairer than they ever deserve. Especially after we’ve been the victims of their anger and/or fists and/or bullying and/or etc etc._

_Take this girl as a prime example. Her nickname is the Grosse Vache and, if you’ve been keeping up your French, you know that means Big Fat Cow. Now I’ve never called her that because, as we’ve talked about before, you can’t help who you were born as or with what face or body you’re born with._

_*flicks back hair in an oh-so-superior manner reveling in my rarified, honourable sensibilities*_

_Though I have to be honest, such altruistic thoughts are not my only reason for not calling her that horrible name: if she caught me saying it she’d bash my face in. But a lot of the other students, especially those older than her, do call her that._

_But she is big. Strong with it too. And I hate to say it, but she’s got a rather bovine quality to her disposition/demeanour. It’s unfortunate and it really doesn’t help, but the poor girl does go quite some way to earning her nickname._

_But what she does - what she has the power to stop and it’s why I have little real sympathy for her - is to turn around and pick on those weaker than herself. And you can guess who that is: us premier petites (that’s ickle firsties, to you). Being bullied is no excuse - it may be a reason, but it can never be excused - for bullying others. And if she just stopped picking on us, I can see that she might not be all that bad, because she is into sports and is not that bad a team player when she’s actually working with other people. And eventually with the sports she might burn off all that fat and just become muscle-ly big instead._

_*sigh*  
(again, but a smaller, less dramatic sigh this time)_

_That’s what I meant before, I‘m being too fair on her, but I can't help it. That’s why I decided to see if I could do something about her horrible nickname._

_You’d be proud of me, I’d be a true Slytherin, like you. If they only had houses here. I wish Mon Pere (that’s my dad, to you) had let me go to Hogwarts, but all his family have gone to bloody Beauxbatons, and even though I’m not his actual daughter I still have to go here, too.  
Anyway, her name reminded me of that cheese. You know the one, the laughing cow cheese: comes in a little round box, already cut up into little wedges, covered with foil? So what I did was to get a whole lot, and bribe the house-elves to put a wedge on her desk before every class and one on her pillow at night. (Not that the house-elves need much bribing - they hate bullies more than anyone) She’s getting angrier and angrier for weeks, especially after the cheeses begin appearing on her plate at lunch. ‘Who’s doing this’, and ect, but she’s still eating them all – because she really is a big, cheese eating cow._

_So I’m waiting for the right moment and it comes when she’s bullying some other premier petites. One thing she does is to laugh at us, you know the sort of thing – ‘Hur, hur, insult, put down, hur hur.’ So I says, from the crowd, so I wouldn’t be caught (Slytherin, see), “Oh that’s right, you’re the Vache Kirit” (the Laughing Cow, just like the cheese)._

_Everyone pissed themselves laughing that heard it, and I don’t think that she knew it was me, so that’s even better._

_So we shall see, time will tell, if she likes being known as the laughing cow rather than as a fat one - I know which I’d prefer. And with it I hope she laughs more and is angry less. The only thing is, if she finds out it’s me who’s given her the name dot dot dot ...  
_

Albus put down the letter with a grin on his face.

Scorpius leaned over and took it back. “see what I mean, she’s so funny and she’s strong willed and no-nonsense and,”

Albus laughed at Scorpius’ description, interrupting him. “She sounds a lot like Rose, the way you say it.”

That made Scorpius stop in his tracks. “I suppose so,” he said, falteringly, “but she’s not so,” he paused, “ha, I was going to say opinionated, but she is that too.”

The letter still in Scorpius’ hand suddenly reminded Albus of the map. “Hey Scorp, that’s what I was going to ask you. I _so_ need a map of this place – I just keep getting lost, buddy. Don’t you have a map? Come to think of it, wouldn’t a place like this have a library?” He could see from the look on his mate’s face that his assumption was correct. “Why haven’t you shown it to me yet?”

Any suspicions Albus might have had as to Scorpius deliberately not showing him the library would have been correct. As will happen often with lonely children of a certain disposition, Scorpius had sought solace in the printed word. As such, the impressive library of Malfoy Manor – probably the finest magical library outside of Hogwarts and the Ministry – held a special place in the heart of the young Malfoy heir. It had also almost become his personal domain, by default. His father was never a great reader and whenever he required a volume from its collection usually sent a house-elf to collect it for him or contacted the curator instead of collecting it himself. On the other hand, his mother was a keen reader. She made use of the collection, certainly, but what she actually preferred to read was not found therein. She secretly delighted in reading trashy Muggle Romances or sprawling family epics, a fact that she took efforts to conceal. But what it meant was that she was not often to be found looking through the library for reading material for herself. Because of those reasons, the young Scorpius had spent hours alone in the Library, lost amongst the wonderful books he had found therein.

It had to be one of his most favourite places in the world.

What if Albus didn’t like it?

Scorpius had been hesitant to show his friend the room as he had invested so much of himself into it. Rose would have understood, he knew. He could imagine the look upon her face when she saw it for the first time. But Albus wasn’t nearly the reader Rose was. He would read, if you placed a book in his hands and strongly recommended it. He could read for his own pleasure, but he usually didn’t and certainly not to the extent that Rose, or Scorpius himself, did.

He was trying to work out what to say when they were interrupted by the sounds of people about to enter the dining room. A moment later, in walked the Lord of the Manor and his Lady.

Scorpius immediately shot to his feet. Albus took the lead from his friend and stood also.

“Now, now, boys, don’t stand on ceremony.” Mr. Malfoy said, with the hint of a laugh in his voice.

Albus did a double take, _‘was that some bit of sly humour’_ he thought, _‘just because we stood?’_ Albus was too used to his older brother’s sense of humour to not spot a double entendre when it reared its ugly head

If Scorpius caught it, he didn’t say or react, and judging by his demeanour, Albus thought he mustn’t have. Instead, Scorpius spoke, retreating into that prim and proper manner he sometimes demonstrated.

“Good morning Father, and welcome home. I trust your business went well?”

“Thank you son, over this last week I have learnt much that I needed to know.”

There he went again, with what Albus knew from the conversation he’d overheard the previous night, the double meaning was as clear as day. It couldn’t be a coincidence, it just couldn’t. Mrs. Malfoy made her way past her husband to retrieve a piece of toast from the sideboard and was now seated at the table buttering it. A serene smile played about her lips that gave nothing away.

Whatever else, Albus was ever to learn of Draco Malfoy, there was one thing he knew from the moment he formally met him – he was as smart as a whip.

“Father, would you allow me to introduce to you a classmate of mine?”

“Certainly, son.”

“Albus, I would like you to meet my father, Mr. Draco Malfoy, head of the Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy, Lord of Malfoy Manor.”

“Father, this is Albus Potter, Second son of Harry Potter, descendant of the Peverell line.”

Mr. Malfoy had advanced towards Albus with his hand outstretched. Albus took a couple of steps himself, to take the hand and shake it. “A pleasure to meet you sir.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Albus Potter.”

“Thank you sir, but please, Mr. Malfoy, please call me Albus.”

“Certainly,” he replied, having let go of Albus’ hand, “I do hope that my son has been an adequate host during the course of your visit?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I am pleased,” he said, walking over to the buffet to prepare his own breakfast. “What activity do the two of you intend to pursue today?”

Before his mate could say anything to the contrary, Albus quickly said, “Scorp, I mean Scorpius, was going to show me the Library today.”

“Very good, it is a particular favourite of my son’s, and if your own predilections tend towards wizarding literature, then I believe you shall like it too. I dare say that there are few libraries as extensive as ours outside the grounds of Hogwarts. The collection has been the work of many generations.”

 

\--o-O-o—

 

So it was, not long after breakfast, that the pair of boys could be found walking into the wing of the Manor that housed the library. It took up the entire end of the East wing – a wing added on to the Manor for the very purpose and only comparatively recently, as far as the Manor went. In the mid to late Nineteenth Century, Arcturus Malfoy had fled the former American colonies, a few steps in front of Muggle law enforcement, but only one step in front of the American Aurors. He had made a fortune on the American frontier, mainly by employing magic to affect the outcomes of games of chance. It was quite illegal, but in that time, when even Muggle law was spread thin, wizarding law was almost non-existent. The Aurors did catch up to him eventually, but he managed to escape back to England with his life and most of his money. He died childless, but his legacy was the Library and, in particular, its extensive, comprehensive, and probably complete, collection of wizard games.

Scorpius was always going to show his mate the library … eventually. He was working himself up to it. Had it mattered less to him, he would have shown it much sooner. But Albus – bloody Ravenclaw that he was – by mentioning it to his father, the clever git had forced his hand.  
The Library wasn’t just the library, It had an associated storage – the stacks – that continued on beyond what was the library proper into the rest of the East Wing of the Mansion. The Malfoy family had never been that large and hence the rooms required for habitation were small in number. But their members had always been fairly rich and, over generations, had developed a penchant for collecting stuff. Given the nature of the Family’s not always sunny past, how much of it was collecting and how much of it was appropriating things that rightfully belonged elsewhere, was a matter of conjecture.

So the library hosted not only a large collection of books, mostly works about magic, or by magical authors, but it also contained a few other distinct collections. There were magical items and relics from round the world, some on display, but a great deal sorted and catalogued in storage. There was the collection of magical games and pastimes as well as a collection of writings that dated back to some of the earliest magical scrolls. There was even a scroll reader, but some distant Malfoy ancestor had obviously had enough of the awkward nature of reading scrolls and had a fair number of them bound up into volumes.

As such, there was a bookbinding workshop in an adjunct to the library. The workshop had fallen into abeyance in the near past, but Scorpius’ father had reinstated the practice of maintaining the library, so there was, once again, a book binder on staff.

Most importantly, as far as Albus was concerned, there was a collection of maps.

They reached the large double doors that marked the entrance to the Library. Scorpius paused at them, turning to his mate. “Albus,” he said, pushing open the doors, “welcome to the library of Malfoy Manor.”

Scorpius hadn’t been here for months and he’d missed the place, so that when he entered he was distracted by the wondrously happy feeling of being here once again. Right beside the door was a wooden spiral staircase that led to the upper levels – which could also be accessed through a doorway above this one on the second story. There was another spiral staircase at the far end of the room and a set of doors that mirrored the ones they’d just come through and led through to the stacks and storage areas.

The second level was visible, being a mezzanine that ran the length of three of the walls – allowing the whole space to be lit by the natural light from magnificent windows mounted in the fourth wall. There was even another spiral staircase, the foot of which could just be seen from this doorway, that led up into the attics – where there was more storage and also an astronomy tower.

Shelves covered the walls, even the free wall had every space between the windows lined with shelves of books. The side opposite the windows had rows of shelving, which were mirrored on the mezzanine above. The space in the body of the library was sizeable enough to have couches and tables and desks enough to read or study at. The high windows were cleverly, and magically, shuttered to prevent harsh sunlight from reaching the main shelves so that it wouldn’t damage the books.

Scorpius was revelling in the sight of the place: the dark brown of the woodwork, the mainly black spines of the leather bound books, the dark green of the ancient leather lounges. Even the smell was wonderful to him. The touch, too, as he found himself running his hands along some books left in a trolley near the door. That’s when he noticed Albus had walked further into the room than had he. His back was to Scorpius, so Scorpius didn’t see his reaction when he tentatively asked, “Well, what do you think?”

But there was no reply, Albus just stood there. Scorpius was starting to deflate, enough that he let out an almost pleading, “Albus?”

Albus just mustn’t have heard, because when he turned around, the expression upon his face caused Scorpius’ heart to soar. His eyes were wide with wonder as he said, “Wow, mate, this place is fantastic.”

Scorpius took great delight in showing his friend around. Though they actually spent hours investigating what the library held, it didn’t seem like it to the two boys. Albus took a fascination with looking up subjects that he knew from school, locating the section, and discovering that, in some cases, the collection of Malfoy Manor was superior to that of Hogwarts. Scorpius explained it, when he pointed out that there was no restricted section in this library; books that weren’t entrusted to the younger children of the school were distributed freely in this collection. The textbooks had been fascinating for Albus, when he’d been shown them, there were always a number of them. A new addition being bought every time there was a significant syllabus change. Scorpius opened one up, the second but latest edition of the Standard Book of Spells: Grade two. “I have the latest one,” Scorpius said, “but see here…” Inside there was a glued on pocket and inside that was a printed slip with three columns, labeled: ‘Borrower, Date and Returned.’ Underneath was a list of names ending with Lucius M. and D. Malfoy, with a tick in the returned column by each name.

They even knocked on the door to the workshop and spent some time with the bookbinder – a youngish wizard a few years out of Hogwarts – helping to repair several books and to set new spines.

At one point, Scorpius stopped beside shelves that contained much brighter and more colourful books than the majority of the rest of the black leatherbound books had been. Scorpius said, “Being magical publications, and also that the remit of the collection is to garner one of every magical publication, there is an extensive collection of wizarding comics; including the entire run of Miggs the Mad Muggle.” 

Albus would have stayed there for the rest of the day, but he was here, in the library, for a reason. He reminded his mate of that reason for their visit, so Scorpius led the way to the map room. It was located on the second level, kept separate from the main library by walls that were glass paneled above a metre or so. When he entered, Albus could tell that the room actually extended into the storage room beyond. In fact, there was a little doorway in the far end of the wall through which they’d entered, which obviously led not to the library proper, but to the stacks. There were a couple of flat tables in the middle of the room, underneath which were rows of narrow, but long, draws, making them more cabinet than table. Deep box shelves lined two walls for the rolled up maps, and regular shelves between the two doors that housed the atlases and bound maps. The wall that had the windows to let in the light, had nothing underneath it, though there was an odd amount of clear space and it gave the room a suspiciously empty feeling in that part of it.

The reason was explained when Scorpius went to one of the tables, checked out the labels written on the front of the draws and began to slide out the draw. He called Albus over to help and he could see why they needed the space – so that the draw could be fully drawn out so that it could be removed and placed upon the top of the table to view its contents. Inside the removed drawer lay sheets of paper and parchment with drawing after drawing of the Manor: plan views, elevations, details of each wing, even ones of the plumbing and services. All stacked by date, too, so that one could see the progression of the house as various members of the family added to it over the years.

“Um,” Albus hemmed, as he desultorily, flicked through a few of the pages, “don’t you guys have anything, you know, simpler?”

He could see that he wasn’t getting his message across, so he added, “like a map?”

Scorpius gave him a look as if to say, ‘what do you think these things are?’

Albus was forced to say, “no, I mean,” he got quieter and involuntarily looked over his shoulder, “like a magical map?”

Scorpius frowned, “a what?”

“You know,” Albus said, still in the same hushed tones, “a map that’s invisible till you say the magic words over it. Then it draws itself and shows you all the rooms and stuff and the name of everyone in it by a little dot that moves around when they do.”

There was a beat as Scorpius stared at Albus, then he full on laughed in his face. When he could speak properly, he said, “Mate, there’s no such thing.” He indicated the shelves around him. “You see how many maps we have here, and I know there’s nothing like what you’re talking about here or anywhere for that matter. A ‘magic map’,” he said, putting in air quotes, “like something out of a fairy story.”

It normally took a lot to get under Albus’ skin. Most often in their friendship, it was the far more widely read Scorpius who would be the one who would have information lurking around the recesses of his brain, spouting facts whenever they needed it. So Albus was used to deferring to his friend’s greater knowledge. But this was something he knew existed, he had held the Marauder’s Map in his hands, seen for himself the dots of people that he knew were walking about the halls, watching them move around the map to match the actions of the actual people.

But it was also the tone of scorn, so unlike Scorpius’ usual manner, which tipped Albus over the edge. “You don’t know nothing. I know there are magical maps, we’ve got one. And it does too draw itself and show dots for people, and they’re still if the person is in their dorm or moving if they’re walking around. It even shows if they go outside.”

In his consternation, Albus had revealed more than he thought he had. Scorpius looked suitably abashed, even upset himself – it was his least desire to cause any hurt to his best friend – but his distress at angering his friend morphed into shock as he took in the words and not just his mate’s anger. He said, in a hushed and awed tone, “You’ve got a magic map of Hogwarts?” 

Albus realised, too late, that he’d put his foot in it, his upset quickly consumed by agitation over what he’d let slip. Having let the kneezle out of the bag, he threw his hands up, palms outwards. “You can’t tell anyone.”

Scorpius’ eyes went wide.

“Please, mate, you can’t tell anyone.” A sudden thought made Albus add, “not just that, but you can’t let James even know that you know about the map either; he’ll kill me.”

An uneasy silence fell between the two boys. Scorpius was looking stunned and upset, tears pricked at the edges of his eyes because of Albus’ fading anger. He had unthinkingly laughed at his mate, and it had proven wrong in the extreme if the Potters actually owned a magical map like Albus had described. They were both upset more at themselves and their reactions than at each other, but neither knew how to get past it at the moment.

Albus sighed to himself and, after a moment, to relieve the atmosphere, he said, “so, nothing like that for Malfoy Manor then?”

Scorpius goggled at him for a moment, but once he saw Albus’ cheeky grin, he started to laugh – hesitant at first, but then comradely as it began to mend the hurt.

They both looked over the floor plans, but they realised that nothing there was going to help them. What Albus wanted was something like the Marauder’s Map: small, easy to use, and would show him in real time walking around the floor of the Mannor. But nothing like that existed, not here at least, and, if Scorpius was right, nothing outside of the Marauder’s Map did.

They packed away the draw of plans and left the room, both a bit subdued. They had had their first fight, if you could call the mild altercation a fight as such, and they didn’t know how to fully get over it. They were passing a study table, with green shaded lamps mounted at each end, when Scorpius suddenly remembered the last time he’d been seated there. More importantly, what he been doing.

He spun around to Albus, enthusiasm lighting up his face. “Hey Albus, want to play a game?” Just as he asked his question, he heard it, and couldn’t help but grin.

Albus was going to nod yes, but then he must have heard it too. He cocked his head, searching out the noise. A frown furrowed his brow. “Is that … are those drums?”

“Drums,” Scorpius said at the same time, “Yes, tribal drums. It’s an amazing game.”

Scorpius’ obvious excitement was beginning to rub off on Albus. “Alright …”

“Fantastic. I’ll get the game, but,” Scorpius looked around at the library, “I couldn’t bear seeing the library wrecked, besides there aren’t enough exits. No, we’ll go down to one of the studies and start the game there.”

Albus was looking at him like he was mad. “This is a board game, isn’t it, the game you’re talking about?”

“Oh yes, it’s great, but it … ah, I can’t describe it. You just have to play it. Come on, I’ll grab the box and we’ll get our wands on the way.”

Albus began to protest that they couldn’t use their wands out of school, but Scorpius was hardly listening as he walked through the end doors and into the stacks. Moving down between the narrow shelves he eventually came to a stop and pulled down a large wooden box.

“Don’t worry, we can use all the magic we like, and we will have to,” he said excitedly.

Albus began to worry about his friend, this sort of behaviour, bordering on the reckless, was not generally like Scorpius at all.

Albus got his wand from their room anyway, when Scorpius did, and hurried down the stairs after him. Scorpius went to a room on the ground floor that held a couch (divan/lounge/whatever, Albus thought) and a fireplace. There was one door in the side wall, the door they’d entered from the corridor and a set of French windows that led outside.

“This is great: ground floor, three exits, one to the outside – perfect!”

“Scorp?” Albus began to ask, wondering what all the preparations were for if it was only a board game.

Scorpius said nothing, only grinned back at him and plonked the box down upon the floor. He opened up the top of the wooden box, which split in the middle, and the two leaves folded down to lay flat upon the floor. The bottom of the box was the board, with dark wooden inlays forming paths to the centre at which was some sort of glass dome.

As soon as the box was unfolded, the drumming stopped as if it had been turned off with a switch.

“This is a game for two to four players,” Scorpius said, “what piece do you want?”

Albus looked into the compartment that was housed in one of the folded out leaves of the lid. There were a few figures inside. “Um, the rhino, I suppose?”

Immediately the rhino zipped to its starting area in one of the corners of the board, and Albus gasped in surprise.

“Good, I’ll be the elephant.”

Similarly, his piece flipped away to a starting point in a different corner.

“You ready?” Scorpius asked Albus, who had been staring fixedly at the two playing pieces. “Got your wand?”

Albus lifted his right hand uncertainly, showing that he had his wand.

An outside observer would have seen two boys leaning over a dark wooden box. The blond haired boy leant over and, from a compartment in the box, reverentially pulled out two ivory dice, or they could have been made from bone. With a grin and a flick of the wrist, he threw them down into the box.

There was an instant of eternity.

It was vast and almost cosmic in nature and to the outside observer it would have been over as soon as it occurred. The two boys had shifted positions slightly in that instant, like an old film jumping frames. The blond boy suddenly, mysteriously had the pair of dice back in his hands. He leant back over the board and, very carefully, lest he drop them, put the dice away.  
A closer inspection, by that outside observer, would have revealed more dissimilarities between the pair as they were now, and as they had been mere seconds ago. Both boy’s faces were liberally smeared with dirt and their clothes were now considerably worse for wear. When the blond had reached over the box, his sleeve had been torn, whereas the dark haired boy’s jumper was actually smouldering.

Scorpius rocked back onto his knees as closed the lid with a snap.

“Did you like it?”

Albus didn’t answer. He just sat there with a stunned expression.

Scorpius’ grin began to fade and said, somewhat anxiously, “Albus?”

“That was …” Albus said slowly, “absolutely AWESOME!” Almost shouting the last. He looked down at the wand in his hand. “You were so right that we needed these – if we couldn’t have levitated ourselves out of that quicksand …”

“How about you,” Scorpius said, “conjuring up that shield spell. I didn’t know you could do something so advanced.”

“Yeah, that’s one of the things that my dad made me practice when …” he trailed off as a horrified expression came over his face. “What about your mum and dad?” He leapt to his feet in consternation.

Scorpius didn’t look so worried. “Like I told you, everything resets, back to the way it was. Don’t you remember this place?” He said, waving his arm to encompass the room and the house in general. “It was a wreck. It’s like nothing ever happened ... though,” he began to look a little concerned, “no,” he tried to convince himself, “she couldn’t really have been eaten by that giant plant. Could she?”

A few moments later the two boys burst into the parlour where Mrs. Malfoy sat, calmly embroidering something stretched over a frame. She looked around serenely at their sudden appearance, but she grew concerned when she took in their state of dishevelment. “Are you boys alright?”

“Yeah, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Yes Mother, we are fine. Sorry to have burst in upon you so abruptly.”

They left the room, closing the door behind them. Mrs. Malfoy, left alone on the other side, could hear them both burst into gales of laughter.

 

\--o-O-o—

 

A few hours later, Mrs. Malfoy sought them out, and with her she brought her husband. They found them, eventually, ensconced in the library. Unlike their earlier, frenetic behaviour, the pair were far more calmly engaged. Both boys were seated at one of the tables and both were equally as obviously occupied in writing letters. Astoria knew that her son was not the normal, run-of-the-mill, boisterous type of boy. He liked to play, like any child would – be they boy or girl – but he enjoyed quieter pastimes more than most. She was glad to see that his choice of friend could share in at least some of her son’s pleasures too. She wasn’t to know that they had both been exhausted playing a game which had taken hours of physical effort to play, and yet at the same time, had taken no time at all.

“To whom are you writing, Scorpius?” Her husband asked.

“Father?” Scorpius said, half in surprise as he began to stand – he had been so engrossed with his correspondence that he hadn’t heard their approach.

Draco waved down his son, indicating that he should remain seated.

Scorpius nodded his thanks to his father. “I am continuing my correspondence with my cousin, as I received a letter from her not long after my return to the Manor.”

“I’m writing her too,” piped up Albus, “Because Scorp, I mean Scorpius, let me read some of her letter and I thought that it might be fun if I wrote to her too.”

“Very good, it is good to see such dutiful boys.” Her husband said, then added something that might have caused a woman with less poise to react in surprise. “We will be having an earlier dinner than usual, due to you both having missed the luncheon bell. Afterwards, since there will be considerable time before our beds beckon us hence, shall we not play a board game? Would you please select a favourite of yours, Son, and bring it along with you to dinner.”

The boys shared a look and Astoria could see that they were both struggling hard not to laugh.

 

\--o-O-o—

 

In the end, Scorpius selected a copy of Slides and Staircases. It was a wizarding version of Snakes and Ladders; or to be more accurate, Snakes and Ladders was the Muggle version of the wizard version of Snakes and Ladders, which in turn was a derivative of the original Slides and Staircases. He’d had the history of the game explained to him by that researcher, the one with the funny name, when he had come to the Manor to do research for his book about wizarding games.

His father had detailed Scorpius to escort the man through the Manor and to help him as he required. He’d felt really grown up at the time, at all his nine and a half years, like it was his first duty as the son of the Lord of the Manor. And anyway, it had also been lots of fun, playing wizard board game after board game with him. For tonight, Scorpius had selected not the earliest version of Slides and Staircases, but the one that had been the most fun to play.

As they sat at the table after the dinner plates had been tidied away, Scorpius had one of those moments where you find yourself on the outside looking in. He felt almost like an outside observer as he watched his mother, sitting there, a serene smile upon her face as she thrashed them all. His father was picking up the dice from the table and shaking his head ruefully. Albus was counting out his own piece’s movement and landing in a seemingly safe square.

If you told him, a year ago, that he would be sitting at the dining table in the Manor, with the son of Harry Potter, who was, moreover, his best friend, playing a magical board game with his father, who was laughing – laughing! – well, then, he just wouldn’t have believed it.

He was brought back into the here and now by Albus, who had picked up the dice his father had just tossed – incidentally landing him upon a slide that had taken his piece all the way back down to the dungeons. “Earth to constellation Scorpius, come in. It’s your turn mate.”

Scorpius took the dice and in that moment was the happiest he’d ever been in his entire life.

* * *

**Here is the latest chapter and with such a wonderful place in it that both my beta and I would love to stay there for the rest of our lives. I hope you like the chapter image as it is the closest my abilities were capable to being able to capture what my imagination dreamt up. I also hope that my description was up to the task as well, I almost considered using a floor plan of the Library instead of a painting of it, just so that people would understand what I was trying to describe.**

**Speaking of my beta, she was immersed in Julno (if that’s the proper way to write it) and I coaxed her out for long enough to finish off betaing my chapter. You see, the thing is, that the original letter from Daisy was firmly rejected by her. I struggled long and hard with it to begin with, let me tell you all. I wanted to find the right balance for her personality to come though, but I had erred on the mean and nasty side. It took me a while to rework it and that caused the delay in the original publishing of this chapter. The amended letter has passed the approval of Anja: it is still mean - as Daisy is fighting back against a mean-spirited bully - but it isn’t with a nasty intent.**

**As for the game … well, I always thought that Jumanji was a magical game and it just seemed to fit. I can so believe that it was envisioned as a magical training device for wizarding children. It quite obviously uses time-turner technology to reset the game once it’s finished after all, which is a sneaky way around the ban on the use of underaged magic out of school. As Anja mentioned, ‘I rather feel like they (wizards) often use methods of education that have a high likelihood of getting their spawn killed.’**

**Anyway, what did you think, please comment if you feel like it in the field below and I shall respond.  
**


	35. A Plan for Malfoy Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our two main male protagonists begin to think about making a map of the House and Environs of Malfoy Manor.
> 
> Albus comes up with an idea; some of the nature of the Malfoy family is explained; Albus is very Albus and Scorpius loves him all the more for it; A co-conspiritor is required; a glimpse is shown into the nature of interrogations in the Malfoy household.
> 
> _Scorpius let out a snort of laughter. “Come on, Albus, how many times have you had to be on the lookout for, or had any dealings with, someone who was invisible?”_

**Note: If I was writing about Albert proposing to make a map of Scorpion’s country home; well then it'd all be mine I tells ya, all mine BWHA HA HA !**

**... hey wait a sec ... sigh ...**

**but, as to the rest, as you will no-doubt actually recognise the names, all I am doing is playing in the sandbox of a very rich woman and she allows this because of her tolerance and generosity of spirit.  
**

* * *

 

**Chapter 35: A Plan for Malfoy Manor**

 

The visit to the map room and the secret that he’d inadvertently let slip had lit a fire in Albus’ mind that he couldn’t put out. It grew and raged inside him for the next few days until he could hardly think of anything else. He got to a stage where he just couldn’t keep it to himself for much longer. 

After they’d finished their breakfast, a few days after the incident in the map room, Albus took his mate aside, out into the gardens where he didn’t think they’d be overheard.

“So what’s with all the secrecy, Albus?”

“Ok, ok,” Albus said, sotto voce, waving his hands at his mate in an attempt to shush him.

Scorpius looked incredulous. His eyebrows furrowed as he addressed his mate. “We’re in the middle of a lawn, Albus, there’s not even a bush within fifty feet for someone to hide in. There’s no way we can be overheard.”

“There could always be someone invisible around.” Albus was peering to his left and right, trying to discern any anomalies in the air around them that would indicate invisible persons.

Scorpius looked even more incredulous, he tilted his head in silent regard of Albus’ manner, but his eyes opened in disbelief when he saw that his mate was actually being serious. He let out a ‘pft’ of breath. “If you’re going to be like that …” he said, and and began to walk away.

Albus grabbed his arm, “Sorry, sorry, but you can never be too careful.”

Scorpius let out a snort of laughter. “Come on, Albus, how many times have you had to be on the lookout for, or had any dealings with, someone who was invisible?”

When Albus had revealed the secret of the Marauder's Map it had been done in anger and unconsciously. It was lucky that Albus was more in control of himself than he had been in the library the other day, because he could think of at least two instances of persons being invisible from the last week alone. When Mr Malfoy had overheard them he must have been magically concealed in some way, probably the same way in which Rodney the house-elf had concealed Albus from the notice of Mr Malfoy only a few days later. And that was not to count his own family’s cloak, which James had used far too many times to become invisible and prank Albus.

Because he was prepared, he was in possession of his emotions far better, such that nothing about the set of his features betrayed anything, let alone another of his family’s secrets.

“You can just never be too careful, that’s all,” Albus said at last. “I let something slip the other day that wasn’t my secret to tell.

“You have to promise me, Scorp, that you’ll keep it a secret. All of it. Not just that you know about the map – though for James, that will be the most important thing. If he thinks I’ve told you about the map, he’d kill me and after that, he would make my life a misery. So not just that, but especially that with James.” Albus was repeating himself with his earnest entreaties, stumbling over himself so much that it almost made Scorpius laugh. “But also for everybody else. No one can know that there is a secret map of Hogwarts at all.”

With a smirk Scorpius replied, “Albus, I am fully aware of how to keep a secret, and moreover, I am completely cognizant of the manner in which you wish the secret to be kept. That is: one, to conceal from everybody that there is a secret map, and two, to conceal from your brother James that I know anything of the secret at all.”

Albus actually did laugh at Scorpius’ manner of replying. “Ok, ok, don't go all ‘posh robot’ on me. You can save that sort of malarkey for Rose.”

Scorpius just raised his eyebrows and stuck out his tongue, not even bothering to justify the response with words.

“To what is your raising of this matter once more…” but at a look from Albus he grinned and in a far more regular way said, “Why are you bringing this up again? From your reaction the other day, I wasn't going to say anything about it to anyone.”

“OK, so it's not just about the secret,” Albus said, “though I really do want you to keep it, it's just…I've been thinking, how would you like to see if we could make a magic map of Malfoy Manor?”

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Scorpius had to go away on his own for a time to think. Albus was directed to the greenhouses, with the imperature to wait for half an hour or so for Scorpius to rejoin him.

It was closer to an hour later when Scorpius sought out his mate. Albus was sitting on an old cast iron bench seat, in a culvert of the rhododendron hedges. 

Hearing the approaching footsteps, Albus looked up from the book that Scorpius had lent him a few days before, with the exhortation that, _‘you've just got to read this, it's great.’_ He put the bookmark in - Scorpius didn't like him turning over the top of the page that you were up to, a bad habit Albus had picked up from Rose.

Scorpius came up to him with a serious expression upon his face and without any preamble whatsoever, said, “I've got so many questions, I almost don't know where to start, but there is one whose importance outshines the rest. I have to know. Exactly why do you wish to make such an item?”

Albus saw the look of suspicion and doubt upon his friend’s face, but he didn't know what it even could begin to mean. He said, in a manner as if it were obvious. “To give it to your dad, of course, next Christmas, when I come over to stay with you.” If he didn't understand the look Scorpius had given him before, he certainly wasn't expecting the reaction he got now.

Scorpius started to cry.

Before Albus even had a chance to roll his eyes, Scorpius was embracing him. 

Hugs between younger boys are awkward things. Not for them the comradely hugs of older men with the manly slaps upon the back. No, younger boys often associate hugs with mothers and girls, not generally a common of interactions with their own sex. So Albus stood there awkwardly, not exactly sure what he should do with his hands. It was over as soon as it began, however, with Scorpius quickly breaking away from Albus and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, awkward and embarrassed at his own over-the-top reaction. 

He looked at Albus sheepishly. “You're the best, Albus. You're the best friend I could ever have.”

Albus was quite confused by the fairly extreme reaction of his friend. He went over the events of the immediate past, trying to work out the cause of Scorpius’ actions, and all he could come up with were questions. “Scorp, why did you think I'd want to make the map?”

It was hard to explain, but falteringly Scorpius did his best. The Malfoy family had been in existence for many generations and one major component of that success had been to keep their dealings very much their own; you could call it a family predilection. Malfoys of the past had given away money with their name attached to it for political or expedient reasons, but anything more personal was kept to themselves. It had only intensified in the past decade under the guidance of Draco. He had deliberately endeavoured to keep the Malfoy name out of the public eye, so much so that knowledge of his home life, beyond his household, was almost non-existent. 

Something like a magical map that could show not only who was in the manor, but their movements too, flew in the face of all that reserve. If such a thing as the map Albus proposed was to fall into the hands of an enemy of their House … it just wouldn't bear thinking about.

Scorpius felt only shame about his suspicions. He knew his mate and he should have known Albus's intentions better. Albus didn't have a malign bone in his body - there was no way he would have proposed making a map for any nefarious intent.

“So, I don't know Albus,” he concluded, “I don't know exactly what I was thinking. I … you know if something like this - like the map you're proposing fell into the wrong hands …” Scorpius shrugged his shoulders, trying to indicate unknowable and dire consequences.

Albus’ eyes lit up as he realised that he’d forgotten to reveal an important part of the map’s nature, and one that was very pertinent in this situation. “But you don't know, I mustn’t have said, but it's blank.” Albus had actually briefly mentioned it when he’d first revealed the existence of the map, but with all that had gone on, Scorpius hadn’t absorbed the information. “The map, it's blank until you say the secret words and tap it with your wand. When you do, it draws itself on the parchment - all the walls and people and things, as you watch. Then, once you’ve finished with it, you say a different secret phase and the map disappears. So normally, it's just a completely blank bit of old parchment, nobody would know it was anything special at all just to look at it.”

Scorpius’ mouth had fallen open in shock. “That's, that's amazing.” 

“If we could make this, if I could give something like this to father …” but he trailed off and his shoulders slumped.

“What’s up Scorp, what’s wrong?”

“Us, Albus. ‘If I could give this to father’, I said. I. You. How on earth are we ever going to be able to replicate such an ancient and obviously powerful piece of magic? We’re only school kids, barely out of first year.”

Albus was grinning. “Mate it's not ancient and guess what? It was written - well made, whatever - by school kids.”

Scorpius’ mouth had dropped open again. “No way,” he breathed out.

“Yeah.” Albus nodded.

“Who did it?”

Albus paused for a moment then said, “Now, this is all part of the secret …”

Scorpius put one hand over his heart and raised the other, “Albus, I solemnly swear that I will never deliberately reveal my knowledge of the map.”

It was Albus's turn to have his mouth drop open, causing Scorpius to say, “what?”

Albus was shaking his head. “You don't know how close … Hey mate, it’s a bit of a story. Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Albus moved his book out of the way so Scorpius could sit - resting it on a shelf built into the seat’s armrest. He sat after Scorpius had and let out a breath. “My grandfather, James Potter - the first one, not my brother, he’s the second one - he had a close group of friends. You may know this, I don’t know, but I do know that some of it’s in the history books so you could. Anyway, what’s not common knowledge is that they called themselves, ‘The Marauders.’”

Under the dappled light that fell through the bowers of the great elms that shaded the bench, Albus proceeded to tell his mate all he knew of the fabled marauders. Albus’ father, whilst reticent to elaborate upon any of his own adventures, delighted in regaling his children with all he knew of his own father’s exploits. Harry had been honest with them and especially about how it wasn't all good. The way that James and treated Severus had been detailed and used as an object lesson in life. 

As Albus detailed some of the things the Marauders had done, Scorpius began to realise that you could, in fact, confuse the two Jameses - the naming of the younger James had been remarkably prescient. Either that, or the naming of another James Potter had caused an almost clone of the original personality to come back into existence.

“... And that's how they came to make the map and have a need for one - so that they could roam about the castle getting up to all manner of mischief. Ha,” Albus barked out a laugh, “that's why I was so surprised when you said, ‘I solemnly swear’. It’s part of the secret words to activate the map. You have to say, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” while you tap the parchment with your wand.” 

“So, if they could make it while they were at school, then I don’t see why we can’t make one too.”

“The first thing I have to do is floo home to my place and get the map, so that you can see it for yourself.”

“Oh, yes please.” Scorpius replied.

“The second thing we have to do is go and see my aunt.”

 

\--o-O-o--

 

It didn’t take ten minutes for Albus to retrieve the map. There was no one home when he flooed in. Even so, he knocked on James’ door - just in case. When no reply was forthcoming, Albus pushed open the door and went straight to James’ trunk. Albus could immediately see that it wasn’t locked, as the lid was partially ajar - due to a book carelessly wedged under the lid. When Albus opened it up, he was pleasantly surprised to find the trunk free of dirty laundry. It must have been thanks to their mum, because Albus knew his brother well enough to know that cleaning out his trunk would certainly not have been the first thing on his mind, or on his mind at all for that matter.

A bit of a rummage around produced the map in short order. Albus had correctly reasoned that, being at home, James would probably not have it upon his person. During term Albus knew the map hardly ever left James’ direct possession, unless Albus specifically requested it.

When he arrived back at the Manor, Scorpius was there at the Gatehouse to greet him. The two boys ran back to the main house, through the halls and up the stairs to Albus’ room followed by an angry, ‘no running in the Hallways’, from an elderly chambermaid.

Albus reverentially unfolded the map and smoothed it out upon Scorpius’ bed.

“Well they certainly achieved one thing,” Scorpius said, evincing a quizzical look from Albus, “It sure doesn’t look like much. If I found that, the furthest thing from my mind would be that I was looking at a powerful magical item. No, I'd be far more likely to want to screw it up and chuck it in the bin.”

Albus nodded back. “You're right, it's not much to look at, not until you do this.” He took out his wand theatrically, saying, “I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good,” and tapped the map.

Albus had seen the map lots of times, so beyond a cursory glance to make sure it was working, he instead looked at the blossoming expression of reverential awe on his mate’s face.

Scorpius watched intensely as the tracery of lines sped out from the touch of Albus’ wand, out across the parchment, delineating the halls and the rooms, the dorms and the classrooms of Hogwarts. It began to populate itself with dots that moved about just as soon as they’d winked into existence, following the movements of their owners as they moved about the castle. Labels attached to the dots told Scorpius exactly who each dot was meant to be. He saw a dot marked Headmistress McGonagall moving along the corridor from the transfiguration classroom.

Scorpius deliberately looked for and quickly found their Slytherin dorms and was surprised to see a dot with an attached name there. “I don't know what I find the most surprising: the fact that the Bloody Baron is hanging around our common room during the holidays when there is no one there, or the fact that the map can show ghosts too.”

Albus looked over, and sure enough there's a dot with the label ‘Bloody Baron’ and it was indeed moving slowly around the common room in the Slytherin dungeons. “Yeah, it shows everything, the map: ghosts, humans, even …” Albus looked around the map trying to find a particular dot, and when he found it, pointed it out, “even animals, see Scorp?”

Scorpius followed his mate’s finger to see a ‘Mrs. Norris’ dot. It was indeed the ancient caretaker’s ancient cat. Though it wasn’t the same cat that had been there in their parent’s day; the first Mrs Norris had not long survived after the end of the war, she’d already been that old. The present moggie, who was still the bane of any student trying to sneak around after dark, was a new cat, though not so young anymore.

The map was all Albus had said it was and more. Still, Scorpius wanted to have confirmed a point about the map that Albus had made, so he asked him, “Make it stop. Please Albus, how do you make it blank again?”

Albus lifted his wand again, tapped it against the map saying, “Mischief Managed.”

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Astoria, in her life outside of Hogwarts, had never had much to do with young boys. Even in the castle as a young girl, she’d had little to do with the ever bothersome members of the opposite sex for most of her schooling. About the time she began growing interested in them, the war happened and in that last year of the War, when the Carrows had virtually ruled the school, she had been too preoccupied with keeping her head down. On one hand, not wanting to draw the attention of those who wished her ill - the non-Slytherins who all thought that the Slytherins were Death Eaters in potentia. On the other hand, not wanting to draw the attention of those who wished her to do ill - the Carrows and the students they had co-opted into joining them in their torture games against any who had caught their ire.

Even with her limited experience of the breed, she didn’t think that there were that many boys who would write so often during their school holidays: her son and his friend were writing yet another letter. Albus had jaunted back to his home earlier in the day, but now the pair were hunched over a piece of parchment, talking in hushed tones and were scribbling away when Astoria entered the parlor for afternoon tea. Both had hurried away, not long after she’d sat, presumably to go to the Manor’s owlery.

The next morning, after breakfast, her son’s owl flew in with the rest of the usual morning mail delivery. It carried an envelope and probably a reply to their missive of the previous day. It wasn’t opened immediately; she saw it surreptitiously slipped into a pocket, obviously to be perused at a later time when the boys were alone.

The air of secrecy surrounding this correspondence was beginning to intrigue Astoria mightily. The two boys scoffed down the rest of their breakfast and left soon after, posthaste.

It wasn’t long before the noisy clattering of feet heralded their return. Astoria had only just finished the meal herself and was going to collect her mail and retire to her parlor to read it.

“Mother.” Scorpius began, and without further preamble said, “May we have your permission to travel to the Ministry today?”

He had adopted his formal tone and she knew what that meant: he was being grown up and wanted to be treated as such. So she responded in a similar manner, treating him with the respect he was trying hard to deserve.

“The Ministry? I do hope that means you are not in trouble?”

“No, Mother, we are not. We have an appointment there for around lunchtime. I do apologize for the suddenness of the request, we only wrote to our correspondent yesterday and didn’t expect to have our request answered so soon, but we were advised this morning of the opening of a slot in their otherwise busy schedule, for later today.”

Scorpius was being strictly gender neutral in his choice of words, Astoria noted, all to give as little away as possible: curiouser and curiouser. She reviewed his words in her mind. She knew how to parse a sentence and thereby divine the hidden intent concealed amongst the otherwise truthful words a person employed. She was a Slytherin for quite an entirely justified reason, after all.

“There seems to me to be quite a large and unspoken ‘yet’ in your previous declaration. Will you two be getting into trouble at sometime in the future?”

Scorpius bowed to his mother, acknowledging the point. “That is one of the things which we are hoping to ascertain by the meeting with the Ministry official today.”

“You are not going to bring shame upon the family?” 

Scorpius drew himself up, to stand taller than he had been. “Mother, in all my actions, in everything I do, I always strive to keep the name of Malfoy in good repute. I solemnly swear I’m up to good.”

Albus choked in the background, swallowing a laugh. Astoria fixed him with a stare, raising one eyebrow.

He spluttered out. “I wasn’t … no ma’am, Mrs. Malfoy, it’s like Scorp said, we’re not going to do anything bad for your family, far from it. What we’re going to do is just the opposite.”

She could tell he was being honest; his suppressed amusement must have been from the manner in which her son had phrased his reply. Obviously the words had held a deeper meaning somehow, the nature of which she couldn’t divine - a private joke between the two, apparently. She wished for a moment that she could question their guest in the manner she employed with her own son. Albus would have been a far easier nut to crack - in one sentence, he had already given away more than Scorpius had revealed in the entire conversation. _’So they were ‘going to do’ something and whatever it was would somehow benefit the family, hmm.’_

There was something else behind the words of her son, something was nagging at her mind. To disguise the fact that she was mulling over what he had said, she picked up her tea cup and took a long and slow sip. Ah, she had it, but she kept her face neutral as she set the cup back down upon it’s saucer.

“You say your intentions are to find out if what you want to do will lead you into trouble, but what happens if you do find out that it will? Surely the temptation will then be to proceed with it despite the consequences if you are found out?”

Again Scorpius made that nod and half bow to her. “I promise you Mother, that we shall not proceed with our endeavours until such time that it is legal,” he saw his mother begin to open her mouth and cut her off, “and safe, to do so.”

She took a sip of her tea again.

“Very well, boys,” she said placing the cup upon the table and standing, “I’ll be ready to depart in an hour or so. I have some business to attend to at the Ministry myself, matters that I have been putting off for far too long. I shall see you to the Ministry and after our business is concluded, how about afternoon tea in Diagon Alley?”

If Scorpius was disappointed that his mother would be accompanying them, he didn’t show it, but she had no intentions of allowing two twelve year olds free access to roam around London, no matter what.

“Thank you Mother, that will suit us well.” He had no choice other than to agree happily because he knew that his mother’s tone would brook no disagreement.

 

\--o-O-o--

 

Albus had been standing apart from the Mother and Son as they talked, and for the most of it he had been biting his tongue, trying not to laugh.

Interrogations were handled far differently in the Malfoy household than they were in the Potter one, that was for sure. At his place, it was either his dad looking sad and disappointed, maybe holding up his ‘I shall not tell lies’ scars, or it was his mum advancing on them (particularly James) with a wooden spoon and murder in her eyes. 

Here, it was all verbal word play; the one trying to give away the least that he could and the other probing for any openings she could find. Albus knew, in the brief moment he’d spoken, that he’d given away more than his mate had wanted him to - the slight wince he’d seen from   
Scorpius had indicated that much. The longer Albus spent here at the Manor and with Scorpius’ parents, the more he saw of the environment that Scorpius was raised in and exactly why his mate was like he was.

* * *

**Well I am finally back to posting chapters.**

**I’m afraid that I burnt out my beta slightly, that and she had a real life uni degree to attend to - what are her priorities hey? ;P**

**So what has happened is that I have enlisted the aid of another beta to help Anja out. So we have also been joined by the absolutely wonderful Emily, she of the BookDinosaur. Anja has stepped up to a more character/plot investigating role and Emily is beavering away in the trenches fixing up some of my atrocious comma usage and other such grammatical tasks.**

**Again, I hope you like the chapter image as it is the closest my abilities were to capturing what my imagination dreamt up. I was a bit depressed at the first wash stage, but some time (in which I put some thought into how I should proceed) solved most of my malaise and brought the painting together. There are still some problems with it, but I’m happy enough.**

**I do so hope that the chapter was worth the half a year wait. I do have many more written and I do hope to go back to posting one a month or so. Anyway, what did you think, please comment if you feel like it in the field below and I shall respond.  
**


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